


Toxic Throne

by TimeLadyoftheSith



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Arranged Marriages, Child Abuse, Dark, Entrapment, F/M, Harold is one sick mofo, Human AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prisoner of War, Rape/Non-con Elements, Royalty AU, Seriously this will be dark af, Suicidal Thoughts, Too many trigger warnings to count, Torture, assassinations, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-22 12:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 51
Words: 179,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeLadyoftheSith/pseuds/TimeLadyoftheSith
Summary: As repayment for saving his life in battle, King Rassilon Saxon swore a blood oath that his heir would be promised to Lord Peter Tyler’s eldest daughter, should he have one. Lady Rose Tyler spends her life knowing she will become Prince James’ wife and future Queen, but when he goes missing in battle the year after bringing her to court, she finds herself wed to his younger brother Harold.Can she survive the darkness she did not know resided in the man she once called friend? If she does, what will happen when her original betrothed returns after being held prisoner for almost three years?





	1. Chapter 1

“Stop biting your nails, Rosebud.” Rose yanked her hand down as Brigette, her former nursemaid laced the back of her dress up. She shifted nervously, eying the mirror as she tried to keep her stomach from rolling. “You’re a lady now, and your mum wants you to look presentable for the King and the Prince. Nail biting is  for children.”   
  
“I don’ feel like a lady, Brigie. I still feel the same.” She tried not to hold her breath as the corset pulled her flat body into the slightest hint of curves. “‘S stupid that blood means ‘m a lady. Mum’s a lady, ‘m ten!” She fiddled with her nails, trying hold still as her hair was combed out of her braid and styled around her face.   
  
“Blood is such a crass term.” Brigette came around to dust rouge on her cheeks, making Rose crinkle her nose. “You flowered, dear, earlier than we expected. That’s the proper term. Use it.” She held the fluffy brush back, tilting her head with a smile. “There, now. You better stop talking like you spend all day with the servants children too, or your mother will be furious.”   
  
“Yes ma’am.” Rose didn’t roll her eyes, though she wanted to. Instead she tried to remember her mother’s endless lessons on proper etiquette. “Why must I meet the Prince today, if I will not be allowed to marry him until my eighteenth name day?”   
  
“Because it is tradition.” Brigette held out her hand, helping Rose step down from the elevated platform necessary to bring her up high enough to be appropriately cinched in. “Once you two meet, he will present you with the ring, and next week you’ll stop tutoring with your parents and I, because the King will send royal scholars and ladies to prepare you for life at the castle.”   
  
“Brigette, is Rose finished?” Rose heaved a sigh as the door open and her mum came in, looking flustered. “His Majesty and their Royal Highnesses are settled in the dining hall. It’s time.” Jackie’s eyes flitted down to Rose, and she forced herself to fix her sweetest smile on her face. “You look absolutely beautiful darling. Don’t be nervous. You’ll just be meeting Prince James today. It’s not like we are letting him court you this soon.”   
  
“May I have wine with dinner?” Rose chanced the question as her mother took her hand and led her into the hall. She could hear laughter echoing from downstairs, her father’s boisterous one, followed by three others. She recognized one, the rich baritone of King Rassilon, her father’s best friend since they rode In battle together fifteen years before she was even born. King Rassilon visited yearly, mostly during the spring hunting season, but his sons had never come.   
  
“Absolutely not. A lady does not drink wine before her thirteenth year.” Jackie shook her head, but Rose saw her smile as they descended the stairs. It had been worth a shot, not that she would ever tell her mum her dad sometimes let her have a taste while he was tutoring her on history, military strategies, and trading. They paused outside of the wooden door, and Rose poised herself primly as her mother knocked.   
  
“And there they are now!” Pete’s voice echoed through the wood, and the doors opened. She entered smoothly, taking her father’s hand, as the three men seated at the table stood. She wanted to look, to see which one was her future husband, but courtesy dictate she focus her eyes on the King. “Your Majesty, you know my wife and daughter.” She went with her father to curtsy before the king, who smiled down at her and extended his hand. “Your Highnesses, may I present my daughter, Rose Marion Tyler.”   
  
“It is always an honor to have you here, my King.” Rose straightened as King Rassilon bent at the waist to kiss her knuckles. “And your sons.” She knew it was all pomp, because his previous visits were never this formal. Just last year he had tugged her braids and taken her hand, declaring her a bright eyed child and promptly sending her out to ride the new horse he had brought for her name day at the end of the week. This was different, because she wasn’t a child anymore. There would be no presents, because she was the one being gifted.   
  
“You look absolutely lovely, Lady Rose.” Rassilon straightened, passing her hand back to her father as he accepted Jackie’s curtsy and presented her with a knuckle kiss as well. “May I present to you my sons, Prince James Jonathan Wilfred Saxon, and Prince Harold Peter Edward Saxon.” He stepped aside, and Rose finally moved her eyes to take in the princes. They were as physically different as could be, with only their eyes revealing they were related at all.   
  
James was tall, with short dark hair, keen summer sky eyes, a proud nose, and a crisp smile. He was only weeks out from his twentieth name day, Rose knew, making him nearly ten years older than her. Which was why they would not be wedding so soon. Harold was shorter by nearly a head, with hair as blonde as her own, a mischievous twinkle to his oceanic eyes, and a roguish smile. He had just celebrated his fifteenth name day the month before. She followed her father’s lead around the table to curtsy first to Harold, who inclined his head with a wink when she looked up as she righted her posture. Then she was moved to James, and she curtsied as low as she had for the king, keeping her eyes downcast as her father held her hand out. Warm fingers clasped her hand, tugging upward, and she stood, looking up into James’ unreadable face. She felt her father move to stand beside the king.   
  
“You’re ten?” His voice was rich, curt but gruff with the thick accent of the late Queen Idris’ northern heritage. Rose felt suddenly very small under his gaze, and she swallowed hard as she tried to remember what she had been trained to say. Her heart was pounding with anxiety.   
  
“Yes, your Highness.” She managed to say, wanting very much to run and hide behind her mother or father. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t ready. She wanted to go find Shareen, the cook’s daughter and go hide down in the gardens. Remembering her lessons, she smiled sweetly. “I would be delighted to dine with you this evening.”   
  
“Don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” James’ whisper wasn’t loud enough for the adults to hear, but Harold snickered from behind him. Rose felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment, as he dropped her hand and pulled out her chair. With a sharp nod from him, she brushed her skirts under her and sat, between the two Princes. Her mother took a seat across from her, followed by the king and princes each settling down before her father did. She didn’t know what she had expected, but James wasn’t speaking to her hardly at all. Occasionally, he would cast a glance down at her, and then his jaw would clench.   
  
Rose kept glancing up at her mother, who was watching the blatant disregard she was receiving, but she didn’t say anything. She focused on her meal, veal basted in fruit sauce with seasonal vegetables and creamed and herbed potatoes. When she reached for her glass, she caught James looking down at her from her left, and the sight of the milk in the goblet made him snort in obvious disapproval. Feeling rather out of place for the first time in her own home, she signaled one of the kitchen workers, Bev, over. “May I have water instead please?”   
  
“Yes mi’lady.” Bev smiled, taking her goblet and replacing it with one filled with water. “‘S there anythin’ else I can get you?” Rose shook her head, and Bev disappeared. She lapsed back into silence, listening to the conversation about new trade routes and a discovery of a gold deposit in the Rift mountains with interest. She knew not to interrupt unless spoken to, so she didn’t.   
  
As she was mid bite, Prince Harold nudged her foot under the table, and she looked over at him. He flashed a wicked smile and nodded at her goblet. She picked it up, finding the contents now held wine. She blinked looking back, as she noticed him nonchalantly wiping pink lip oil smudge from the goblet in his hand with a thumb, before drinking. “Your Highness.” She hissed softly, but he gave the shortest shake of his head and refilled his goblet with wine. He had switched their drinks!   
  
“Yes, Lady Rose?” Prince James’ voice made her snap her eyes to her left. He must have heard her hiss at Harold, and he was watching her with an arched eyebrow. She almost choked on the wine as she flushed, embarrassed at the mistake. She had to think, but she had no idea what to say.   
  
“Nevermind, my Prince.” She looked back down as he scoffed. “My question seems to have abandoned me.” She went back to her food, feeling less and less like the woman she was supposed to be now. When dinner was finished, she followed quietly into the parlor for tea and cakes, while the men gathered around a table and the talk turned to the country of Skaro to the south, which was apparently starting to get a little too hostile with some of their Kingdom, Gallifrey’s, allies.   
  
Rose was interested by this subject, and, feeling emboldened by her two goblets of wine, thanks to Harold’s sneaky swapping, she approached the men, clutching her teacup. They had a map rolled out, with iron and wood figurines scattered about. “Davros may be mad, but he wouldn’t think about attacking Karn outright.” Her father sighed, tapping the map.   
  
“Agreed Lord Tyler, but we still should keep a standing force ready near their borders.” Prince James tossed back a mouthful of what she knew was her father’s prized scotch, raising an eyebrow at his father. “Queen Ohila would agree.” His eyes ghosted over to her, filling with barely veiled annoyance. “We have an eavesdropper.”   
  
Rose tightened her grip on her teacup, refusing to cower under his gaze, even if he were twice her height and age. His eyebrows narrowed, lips twisting up, until King Rassilon chuckled loudly. “Lady Rose is no eavesdropper. Peter has been educating her on military strategy since she was old enough to read.” Rose shook her hair back, as Harold scooted closer to her father to allow her closer to the table. “Since she is to be queen, James, we should see if there’s something she may see that we may have overlooked.”   
  
Rose looked down at the map, bristling with pride as she examined it. At least the King was respecting her new found womanhood, even if her arrogant betrothed did not. She sat her teacup down beside her father’s cup, as she monitored where the figurines were posted. “Skaro has only two sea ports. Since that is how they trade, it would be their weakest point. If we throttled their northern port, it would force them to recall their armies or face the next winter with reduced lumber from Karn and none of our coal and fuel.” She picked up two ship figurines and dropped them at the strait that fed Skaro’s northern port. She grinned when her father clapped her shoulder, and Harold gave her another roguish wink. King Rassilon opened his mouth, but James cut in.   
  
“Thank you for that delightful insight, Rose, but the adults here discussed that while you were nibbling cakes.” His voice wasn’t harsh or cold. It was a bemused sort of patronizing tone. The bubble of pride inside of her burst as he dug a wrapped sweet from his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it reflexively. “First marks for basic military strategy. Why don’t you go run along and play now?” She didn’t stop to look at the looks her father and the King gave him. She simply turned, dropped the candy to the floor, and brushed right past her mother into the hall.   
  
“Excuse me, Peter. I need to have a word with my son.” James rolled his eyes as his father grabbed his shoulder and propelled him out into the hall opposite of where the blonde child had disappeared to. “What the blazes was that?!” Rassilon was furious, but honestly, James was as well.   
  
“She’s a bloody child!” He growled, yanking away. “You expect me to be okay with this?! I’m almost twenty, and she’s barely old enough to be out of braids!” He tossed his hands up, fixing his father with a sharp look. “This is ridiculous. So, she flowered early. It’s weird! She isn’t even of a woman’s body, and you expect me to propose tonight!” His mother’s ring felt heavy in his pocket, and he resisted the urge to pull it into his hand and try to remember the smell of her perfume.   
  
“Peter is my best friend! He saved my life in the war! I promised him his eldest daughter, should he ever have one, would marry my heir!” Rassilon stepped in, eyes flashing as he seized James by the shirt. “I swore by blood to this betrothal, and I will not break it!” He released James’ shirt, backing up. James crossed his arms, turning away to growl his frustration. This was insane. This whole bloody agreement was insane. “She won’t be ten forever, James Jonathan Wilfred. You will propose tonight, and when she turns fifteen you will present her as your Lady. Then you will court her until her eighteenth name day. Do you understand me?”   
  
James knew there was no arguing, so he nodded, fixing his face into a cool mask. “Just give me a minute to keep my stomach from curdling, your Grace, and I will apologize for my behavior.” His father glowered at him, before returning to the parlor. His annoyance only ratcheted higher as he began pacing the halls. He had known that Rose was promised to him since the day she was born, but he had never expected their engagement to be so soon.   
  
They may have dolled her up, painted her face, and forced her barely developing body into women’s clothes, but it still felt absurd. She looked like a child, and even though she spoke and carried herself like a woman, all he could see was her innocence and youth. Why he couldn’t wait until she was fifteen to propose was beyond him. Tradition be damned. The idea that because she could physically bare children now made her old enough to be betrothed was absurd. It wouldn’t feel so wrong if she were older, looked more of a woman, and wasn’t served milk with her dinner. Then again, they had informally been engaged for ten years. The whole kingdom knew that. This was just to make it official, to start her tutelage in preparation of being his queen.   
  
Thankfully James had convinced both of their parents to wait until she was a more appropriate age to present her to the Court. Still, it irked him that Rose was so young. Then again, it wasn’t her fault. She was being forced into this as well, and she had done her best to be polite and act exactly how she had probably been coached. His irritation was not at her, because she was too young to fully understand, but at their families. Heaving a sigh, he opened the door and reentered the room. Harold was missing, as was Lady Jacqueline, and his father was speaking in hushed tones to Lord Peter.   
  
James steeled himself, approaching the man he had been raised to view as an uncle, the man who had gifted him his first bow, and had taken him riding and hunting many times throughout his own youth. “Lord Peter, I would like to apologize for my behavior. It was unbecoming of my title, and it disrespects the love and friendship our families have shared for years.”   
  
“It is forgiven, Your Highness.” Pete shook his head with a forgiving smile. “Believe me, Rose has been no less vocal about how she feels being engaged this young. She refused to even consider wearing a corset this evening until Jackie threatened to take her mare away for a month.” James could almost picture that argument, and he looked around the room again. “Ah, yes. Jackie went to find Rose, but she wasn’t in her room. She’s out checking the kitchens now, and sending Brigette to search the gardens.” James frowned at his words, knowing the poor girl had probably hidden herself away to cry. What else would a chastised child do? “Prince Harold is assisting. He is sweeping the Manor interior.”   
  
Of course Harold would be playing the good son. It was his favorite game. James knew better. His brother was sneaky, two faced, and possibly dangerous. He’d begun to worry that he may even be deranged, but there was no way to link him to the mutilated rodents and cats found around the Castle grounds and just inside the Kingswood. He had been trying for the last year, but there was no evidence to present to their father. “I’ll apologize to Lady Rose as well.” He sighed, taking another offered glass of scotch.   
  
“Knock knock.” Rose jumped as a hand rapped on the trap door beside the bookcase in her reading room. She blinked in the dark, wiping her eyes as Harold pushed the wooden panel aside and crouched down with an extended hand. It was clasping an embroidered kerchief. “There’s the pretty blossom. Come now, dear. Don’t cry over that pompous prat.” She swallowed hard, taking it and wiping her cheeks.   
  
“How did you find me?” She lowered her legs, sniffling as she remembered to add. “Your Highness?”   
  
“Whether a lady is ten or fifty. I always know they want to go somewhere dark and quiet to hide their tears.” Harold gave her a sweet smile, as he lowered himself to sit crosslegged across from her. “If you were older, I’d have checked the hidden safe room behind the painting of your grandmother.” His blue eyes twinkled at her in a compassionate way. Then he reached over, tugging a wave of her hair playfully. “Next time, make sure your hide your skirts all the way. This bit was showing under the crack.” He tapped a bit of lace that was indeed just past the bottom seam of the door.   
  
“I don’t want to go back.” Rose dabbed her face again, trying to force her tears away. It was hard, especially since she felt a bit shaky from the wine. “I don’t want to be engaged to him. He’s so.. so... rude!” She covered her mouth as she realized her mistake. She just had insulted the crown prince, right in front of his brother.   
  
“Oh stop that!” Harold laughed, a light sort of carefree thing. “I am not going to tell anyone you said that. He is rude. I thought your analysis of the skirmishes was brilliant. It wasn’t your fault you missed that part of our planning. He suggested the very same thing while you were making your mum’s tea.” Harold took her hand softly, tugging her out to sit next to him. “I’m a bit to blame for this though.” He gestured at her damp cheeks.   
  
Rose blinked at him, confused by his statement. “How?” He had been nothing but kind to her, and now he was here comforting her.   
  
“I think that you would not be so prone to tears, if I hadn’t snuck you those two goblets of wine.” Harold looked sheepishly down, fiddling with the dagger on his belt. Rose drew a shaky breath as she shook her head, handing him back his kerchief. “Believe me when I say I understand, to some degree. I’m fifteen, and James treats me like I’m a child as well.”   
  
“At least, your Highness, you aren’t expected to marry him.” Rose brushed her hair back, longing for her braid so she could fiddle with the bumps to calm herself. “I doubt he’ll ever see me as more than a little girl.” She looked up as the prince chuckled and stood. He held out a hand, and she took it, letting herself be pulled to her feet.   
  
“First of all, Lady Rose, call me Harry. You’ll be my sister in eight years.” He stepped back, tilting his head as he looked her over with a critical eye. “Trust me. By the time you are fifteen you’ll be a stunning woman, and by your wedding day, I doubt there won’t be a single nobleman of our ages jealous that you are his.” His tone was appreciative, when he extended his elbow and let her loop her hand through his arm. “You’re an absolute darling now, and you’ll be far more beautiful than your namesake when you walk down that aisle.”   
  
“Thank you Harry. You’re very sweet.” Rose let him lead her back down towards the parlor room, and she paused when they reached the door. “Am I presentable, or should I wash my face?” He answered with another tilt of his head and a wipe of her right eye, then opened the door.   
  
James bristled at the sight of the young girl on Harold’s arm. His brother was smiling far too perfectly, that sickly sweet look that made his skin crawl. He gritted his teeth as he saw Rose had obviously been crying. That was his fault, he knew, but still, it wasn’t enough to stir real guilt. Little girls cried over bumped elbows and skinned knees. She’d be over it by the morning. That didn’t stop the urge to roll his eyes, which he fought, as Lady Jacqueline came in looking relieved.   
  
Biting back choice words at the insanity of it all, he approached Rose, shooting Harold a glower. His younger brother backed away to join their fathers near the fireplace. He dropped to one knee, which put him at eye level with her round face and hurt filled amber eyes. He plunged his hand into his pocket, grabbing his mother’s ring which would be too large for her petite fingers. James had had the foresight for that, and he had hung the ring on a golden chain. “Lady Tyler, I would like to first apologize for my inexcusable behavior. You are a Lady now, and deserve to be treated as such. Will you forgive me?”   
  
“Yes, my Prince. I forgive you.” Her voice was so soft, still full of that youthful innocence. James forced himself to remain still and not demand another five years of waiting. It had already been squashed seventeen times over the last month. He had to give her credit, because she was staring right back at him without a single glimpse of fear or trembling as he took her hand.   
  
“Lady Rose Marion Tyler, Our hearts have been sworn since before our births.” He tried not to let his distaste color his words, keeping to the words he had rehearsed. “Now I have come, with the blessing of both our fathers, to ask if you will fulfill that vow with me. Will you pledge yourself as my intended, allow me to present you to the Court on your fifteenth name day, and allow me to court you until you are ready to be wed to me?”   
  
“Prince James Jonathan Wilfred Saxon, with my father’s blessing and my mother’s guidance, I do accept your proposal, and I will keep my pledge as your betrothed.” Rose’s voice was firm, unfeeling, as if she had been just as coached on what to say as he had been. At least they had that in common. James presented her with the ring, displaying the chain in his hand with a questioning look. So she was clever enough, as she turned and held her hair up to allow him to hang it around her neck. He drew a breath, closing his eyes as she turned leaned forward a press a kiss to his cheek. When he looked again, he had to bite back a chuckle as she covertly wiped her lips.   
  
“There we are!” Rassilon laughed, and the sound of a cork being popped made him jump. James happily accepted the offered champagne from Lady Jacqueline, as an excuse to wash the foul taste from his mouth was welcomed. He almost missed his brother’s greedy look as Harold handed Rose a small glass with no more than two swallows of champagne. That would not do at all, and he made a mental note to make sure once Rose was old enough to come to the castle, he would never leave her alone with his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

Rose fiddled with her gloves as the carriage made its way through the Castle Town. She normally would have loved to peer out of the windows and drank in being in a new city, but with war looming on the horizon, her journey had been spent in the darkness of shaded windows with only the faintest light to read by. Even when they had stopped at inns, she had been dressed down into peasant clothes and kept under close guard by her father’s bannermen, who were posing as her father and brothers, and royal guardsmen who were dressed as traveling mercenaries.    
  
The decision to come to Court had been a much heated one. Neither her mother, nor Prince Harold seemed to think it was safe, but her father and King Rassilon had assured all that her path would be discreet and well protected. Harold was advocating because James had been in Karn for the last month discussing a formal military alliance. There was also the fact that they had become friends through letters, as he wrote her every month with news from the castle or gossip about the going ons of court.    
  
In the last five years, Rose had only seen here fiance once, when  he stopped for rest on his way back from visiting his mother’s family. It had been a quick visit, as she had been ill. With the curtains drawn and lights shaded to ease her headache, while her mum patted her fevered face with a cold cloth, James had wished her well and left a book of poetry wrapped in a yellow ribbon on her nightstand. She hadn’t even been able to open her eyes. They had written each other letters, as was expected, but she still felt as if the man was a stranger. His letters barely brushed on personal topics, just as hers rarely did. His slight to her on the night of their engagement sometimes stung nearly as fresh as the moment it had occurred, and the ring on her left hand had become so commonplace that she felt no thrill at its weight.    
  
Normally her parents would have accompanied her themselves, but her mother was late in a difficult and unexpected pregnancy, and her father was preparing his bannermen for the possibility of riding to war. That meant Rose was taking her first official steps into Court on her own, and while she was nervous, she knew she could do it. The last five years of her life had been devoted to preparing her.    
  
The sound of guards calling, as the speed of the cart shifted to accommodate the smooth pavement of the castle drive from the cobblestones of the city told her she was safe now, and Rose raised her window shades to gaze out at the sprawling grounds. The high stone walls were manned with guards, and men and women were scattered about trimming hedges or carrying buckets of water and baskets of food up from the servant gate behind a trio of guards. “Here we go.” She sighed, tucking her book away into her bag and pulling her traveling cloak from around her shoulders and tucking it away neatly. The carriage rolled to a stop, as the castle steps came into view. The sound of the steps being lowered echoed through the floor, and Rose winced as the door opened. A vaguely familiar hand extended inside, and she took it, stepping down into the noonday sun. She blinked as her eyes adjusted, looking up to find a exuberant smile and dancing blue eyes crowned by cornsilk colored hair.    
  
“Your Highness!” Rose dropped into a curtsy, looking down at the shiny boots of the man who had assisted her out, but grinned in excitement as warm lips brushed her knuckles through her gloves. There was an upward tug, and she stood, blue eyes holding hers for a moment before he laughed.    
  
“Come now, Rosie my dear, I’ve told you to call me Harry!” Prince Harold pulled her in for a brief, appropriate hug, before stepping back, dropping her hands slowly. “Let me look at you!” His eyes went wide as they took in her modest green traveling dress, and the changes five years had brought to her body. Rose knew enough of men, now, to know that this toed the line at being flirtatious, but she also knew he would never overstep his brother’s claim. “I knew you would grow to be lovely, my Lady, but I did not expect you to be this beautiful! My brother will be dining on crow this evening, of that I am most certain.” He extended his arm, that easy, friendly smile she had almost forgotten he had, gracing his features. “Come, you must be exhausted. I shall show you to your chambers and have your new handmaidens draw you a bath and fetch you lunch.”    
  
Rose couldn’t help but laugh as she looped a hand through his arm and let him guide her up the steps to the guarded doors, which opened to let them step into the grand foyer. She wasn’t embarrassed at his teasing compliments, though she had to admit the last five years had made him rather attractive. Her heart belonged to James, even if she didn’t love him, and the thought of dishonoring their betrothal was enough to squash any tittering feelings. She had grown used to doing that, as she had been quietly pursued by undaunted suitors at various festivals and parties.    
  
Gazing around at the soaring walls lined with tapestries and hunting trophies, she gasped. “It’s so beautiful!” The windows were open, the red and gold silk curtains billowing in the breeze. A matching rug ran the length of the hall up to a heavy double oak door flanked by curved stairs. At the landing of the stairs, framing the doorway that led to another hall were three  portraits: The Queen Idris seated on a throne with a young King Rassilon standing beside her, Harold in full white regalia with a thin, shining silver crown on his brow, standing in front of a different, smaller throne, and James, draped in rich black clothes and a blacker cloak, with a black crown with a single blue sapphire adorning his head, as he stood with one hand on a throne slightly larger than Harold’s.    
  
Now that she was somewhat older, Rose could appreciate that he was handsome, in an unconventional way. Even painted, his eyes held that sharp cleverness she remembered, and his thin lipped face radiated collected confidence in himself. Her heart skipped just beat, just once, enough to make her shake herself, as Harold chuckled behind her and led her towards the stairs. “The throne room is through those doors.” He pointed ahead before gesturing to a corridor that had been blocked from view by a suit of armor. “The ball room and formal dining halls are that way, as well the main exit to the gardens.” He brought his hand back to pat hers resting on his forearm once. Then he gestured to one directly across from it. “That leads out to the orchard and the guard house.” He paused directing her attention to the stairs. Rose lifted her skirts enough to walk, and released his arm to hold the rail as they climbed. “This part is just a separation, but up here you’ll find the visitor’s library and some lovely balconies where you can take tea or read.”    
  
Rose gasped at the numerous windows on the left as they entered the hallway. The castle grounds sprawled out below them, giving her a view of the massive gardens, which were built around a lovely spring in the distance, shadowed by three heavy oaks and a small creek that wound into the distance, disappearing under a distant wall that stopped at the shining green leaves of what she knew was the Kingswood. On her right were five doors etched with books and scrolls along their frames. “You said the visitor’s library. Is there a private one?”   
  
“Oh yes, and you have Father’s permission to use that one as you please.” Harold grinned, as they reached the end of the hall, which formed a massive balcony that wrapped along the wall, dotted with more doors, and overlooking an inner courtyard where some children, probably those of the castle staff or lower nobility, were sitting around a woman who was reading aloud to them. Four different stair cases led down to the courtyard. “To the right there is Father’s official office, Mother’s official office, and the council room.” He gestured to the three doors on the right. “Her office will be yours in three short years. Over there.” Harold gestured to his left, at three more doors. “Is James’s official office, my office, and the captain of the guards office.”   
  
Rose felt a bit overwhelmed as she drank it all in, and she gaped in wonder at the delightful, open, bright feel of the castle. She had half expected it to be dark, imposing, like they so often were described in books. While she missed the Manor terribly, she knew it wouldn’t be long until she felt at home here. Harold led her down, grinning as the woman reading whispered something at the children before they were in earshot, who stood and bowed or curtsied once they reached the ground. “Good afternoon your Highness. Good afternoon Lady Tyler.”    
  
“Good afternoon little ones.” Rose smiled as she inclined her head, just as her etiquette teachers had taught her. “Enjoy your studies.” She giggled as the settled back down, and Harold gestured to a series of open corridors. “This is a bit more complicated.” She sighed, as she looked at them. There were five this time, three on the left and two on the right, as well as two massive doors on the back wall of the courtyard.    
  
“These two are easy.” He pointed, retaking her arm. “This one down to the staffs quarters, their bathing chambers, and the kitchen and its garden. The other leads to the small armory and the castle treasury, not the vault mind you. Until you are queen, you can’t visit that.” Rose nodded, understanding that some things weren’t discussed. She hadn’t even been allowed inside her own family’s vault until she was thirteen. “These three over are a bit more complicated, but you’ll learn. Closest to us is the guest wing, where visiting nobility and foreign ambassadors find their chambers.” Rose nodded, until he pointed up. “It has three floors, but don’t worry, you won’t be staying there.” That caught her a bit off guard, until he gestured at the middle corridor. “This leads out to the stables on the first floor, but the second floor is the private library. There is no third floor. This corridor.” He pointed at the last one. “Is actually a hallway leading to the north tower, where you will find the private library that goes up seven stories and is topped off with a room designed for astronomy. I’m sure you know who insisted on that.”    
  
Rose giggled. One thing she did know about James was that he loved the stars. Sometimes the majority of a letter she would get would be describing some new constellation he had found or a meteor shower he had watched. She had wanted to have things in common with him, so she had taken to stargazing herself. She found that she loved it too, and had fallen asleep on her balcony back home, more than once, watching the heavens sparkle above her. “I can’t say that I blame him. The stars are awe inspiring.” She flashed Harold a smile as he chuckled and rolled his eyes. Then he moved her towards the two doors.    
  
“Now, this door on the right will lead you out into our private family gardens, but this door.” Harold opened it, revealing a wide hallway lined with windows that showed the tower to their left, and had two doors on the right before stretching down and spreading out to a curving wall and staircase. “Is the royal wing. Welcome home.” He chuckled, leading her in and closing it. Rose’s head spun for a moment at his words, and the reality of what was happening made it hard to breathe. His easy going personality had made it simple to forget the enormity of what her arrival meant for her life. She gasped for air, as Harold spun and caught her easily before she could lean into the wall. “Hey, easy now. Look at me.” His face swam into focus as he steadied her. “Maybe I should have saved the tour for after you rested and dined. My apologies, sweet Lady.”    
  
“I’m fine, Harry, really.” Rose swallowed as she regained her footing, though her heart was still galloping in her chest. She pointed at the two doors, needing to ground herself with his previous running commentary. “What are these?”    
  
“The first is where the royal guard posts at night. It’s sort of a gathering room with a place to dine and read, as well as a tiny armory.” Harold pointed to the second, tightening his grip on her arm as if he expected her to swoon again, before offering hesitantly. “When you wed James, this is where the royal midwife and nursemaid will stay. There is none on staff now, except one the servants use. You’ll be expected to find one when your time comes.”    
  
Rose regretted asking, because that was too much to consider, and she shoved those thoughts aside as they drew near the stairs, and she didn’t have to look up to know they were in another tower. “Who’s room is this?” She pointed at the door, which was unmarked and plain.   
  
“Nobody’s. It leads down to a siege corridor in the event of a fire or attack. It goes directly under the gardens to branch off towards the guards barracks or the emergency escape to the Kingswood.” Harold gave her a reassuring smile, as he ushered her to the stairs. “The first level is Father’s room. The second level is James’. I’m on the third, and you, my dear, will be on the forth. The fifth and sixth are currently empty, though my grandfather Wilfred, Aunt Sylvia, and cousin Donna use them when they visit.”    
  
Rose followed him up, pausing briefly outside of James’ door. She shivered softly in anticipation, recalling his words. “You said he’ll be dining here tonight. Why didn’t he greet me?” Not that she was sure she was ready to see him. She was curious as to his and the Kings’ absences.    
  
“James arrived just before dawn after riding two days without sleep to be here for your welcome celebration.” Harold gave an understanding pat of her upperback, signaling her to keep moving. “He met with the council and then retired at Father’s orders to get some sleep. He was not happy about missing you, you have my word. Father isn’t expecting you until dinner. He knows you’ll want to freshen up and relax after your journey.”    
  
“Welcome celebration?” Rose nearly missed the step, grabbing the rail to steady herself. “I didn’t know there would be a celebration. Your letters said dinner, Harry. My formal gowns won’t arrive for another three days!” She had only packed appropriate clothes for private meals with the Royal Family. She didn’t want to embarrass herself or James on her first day.    
  
“My apologies, Rose, but don’t fret.” Harold eased her up past his door to her floor, opening the door to escort her in, leaving it wide, as was appropriate since they had no chaperone and were both unwed. “But, your mother’s seamstress sent your measurements ahead weeks ago, and I’m sure Madam Sarah Jane has made sure your closet is not bare. Just look what she’s done with your suite.”    
  
Rose froze in the middle of what was obviously a sitting room. Comfortable chairs and sofas lined the curved walls, framing a fireplace flanked by two windows. Those windows were open, the sheer lace curtains fluttering in and bringing the orchard blossoms’ scents up with them. The shelves around the room were lined with books, flowers, and lovely art sculptures. An open set of doors to her right revealed a small dining area that had a smaller fireplace behind a white covered table with a pristine tea set beside a bowl of fruit, and as she stepped in, she saw the wall curved around to another door which was open and led to a small office with a desk stacked with fresh stationary, a vase of flowers, and a few smaller chairs.    
  
Rose quickly returned to the sitting area, gaping in awe at how elegant, yet simple this was, designed exactly to her taste. Her hands froze on the closed door knob on the opposite side of the room, as Harold cleared his throat. Ah, yes, the bedroom. It would be impolite to open it with him present. “My apologies, your Highness.” She dropped her hand from the knob, walking back over to him. “Thank you for escorting me in. I don’t want to keep you from your other attentions.”    
  
“Yes, of course.” Harold visibly shook himself, as he looked at her with that tilted headed, sweet smile she remembered from their first and only conversation five years ago. “I shall send your handmaidens up to draw your bath and bring you lunch. If you need me for anything, I shall be in my office.” He snapped his heels together, giving a flourished bow that made her laugh, and Rose curtsied in response before he stepped from the room and closed the door. Letting out a heavy breath, Rose pulled her gloves off and made her way towards the bedroom. She turned the knob, pushing it open, and stepping inside.    
  
She gasped in surprise as she took it in, although she should have been past the shocked stages at whomever this Sarah Jane was with her decorating skills. The bed was massive, with tall curving posts carved like vine adorned columns, and had soft looking, translucent curtains tied back to reveal a mountain of pillows adorned with her family’s crest, a golden wolf howling in front of a green crescent moon, and a green and gold comforter to match. It was a larger, more elegant version of her bed at home.    
  
A vanity table sat in a corner, with the windows to the left, decorated with bottles of perfumed oils, hair brushes, and combs. There were two boxes wrapped in yellow ribbons, stacked neatly in the center, with a card attached. Rose itched to open them, but she would wait. She opened one of the two doors on the far wall, finding one led to an ensuite with a massive stone bath under a far window that had three small alcoves under it, each filled with wood. Next to it was yet another fireplace, again small, obviously designed to keep the room warm while she bathed in the winter. A mirror lined a wall above a wooden table, which held two washing bowls and a jug. Fluffy towels were stacked on shelves near the rub, and behind them she found a small hidden space for the chamberpot.   
There were more flowers spread out in here, along with sconces on the wall that smelled of oil. The door beside it led into a closet, which as Harold had said, was not empty, but not totally full either. There were three exquisite looking formal gowns, four every day dresses that looked just a smidge more fancy that the ones she brought, shelves in the back that held what looked like riding clothes, and more shelves just beyond the dresses held two pairs of riding boots, some everyday sandals and slippers, and three sets of short heels that would match the dresses.    
  
“Lady Rose?” A soft voice drew her into the sitting area, where a sweet faced woman was holding her traveling bag and three male servants were carrying her trunks. Just beyond them in the dining area, a girl about her age was starting a fire in the hearth and stringing up a kettle. “There you are, my Lady.” The woman smiled broadly, executing a quick curtsy after setting down the bag. “I’m Sarah Jane Smith, former nursemaid to the princes, now currently the manager of household affairs.”    
  
“You can be informal with me, Madam Sarah Jane.” Rose assured the woman, who smiled and waved the male servants onwards with the bags. “You decorated my room? It’s wonderful.” She approached Sarah Jane, smiling as the woman looked her over with an approving smile.   
  
“Prince James had some input, of course.” Sarah Jane’s laugh took Rose by surprise, making her blink a bit in shock. “He left specific instructions that it should be brightly decorated, with lots of space to read, and that you would prefer sheer curtains instead of the thicker ones. He wanted it as similar to your room at the Manor as possible.” For the first time, Rose’s chest swelled with affection for her betrothed, and she felt herself flush as Sarah Jane offered her a hand. Rose took it, enjoying the motherly warmth in it. “He said he apologizes if he didn’t get anything quite right, because his one glimpse at your bedchambers at home was brief and dimly lit.”    
  
“It’s perfect really.” Rose felt her cheeks burn, as the male servants disappeared out of the door, and another set of female ones appeared with a tray of meat, vegetables, and decanter of wine. They bobbed sweet curtsies before disappearing into the dining area. “And the dresses looked amazing. I didn’t have a chance to look at them.” She stepped aside as four more male servants appeared, carrying buckets of water past her. “Thank you so much for all of this.”    
  
“It’s nice to have a lady back in the Castle.” Sarah Jane laughed, and Rose found it easy to loop their arms together. “Come, you must be famished. Let the bath water warm while you eat, and I will give you all of the details on how tonight’s celebration will occur.”    
  
The memory of the boxes on her vanity drew Rose to a stop, and she released Sarah Jane’s arm. “One moment. I didn’t open the Prince’s gifts on my vanity. You set up lunch for the both of us. I’ll be right back.” She hurried back to the bedroom, smiling in excitement at the folded card, before she opened it.    
  
_ My Lady,  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I apologize that I was not fit to welcome you to my home. However, I look forward to seeing you tonight. I know you must be exhausted from traveling and missing your home already. I hope these gifts inside make you smile. They were my mother’s, and I’m sure they will compliment whatever gown Sarah Jane has chosen for you to wear. I look forward to dining with you.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Ever Yours,  _ _   
_ _ James   _ __   
  
Rose bit her lip as she undid the ribbon an opened the first box, finding a pair of brilliant, blue diamond chandelier earrings and bracelet. She gasped, knowing they were worth more than every jewel she owned, not just monetarily, but also because James’ mother had owned them. The second box held a necklace that matched, and Rose held no reservation that he expected to see them on her at dinner. Closing the boxes, she tucked them safely away into an empty drawer, and smiled happily all the way back to Sarah Jane. Maybe things would be better between them than they had started.


	3. Chapter 3

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” James growled as he slid the straight razor along his jaw, trying to ignore his brother who was leaning against the door frame, spinning his thin silver coronet between his palms. “I’m busy you know.” He shook the shaving cream off into the bowl, and tilted his jaw to assure he had gotten all of the stubble his traveling had left on his jaw.   
  
“I could go see if Rose is ready to come down yet?” Harold pushed away from she door frame, that all too saccharine smile on his face as he tossed the coronet up and caught it at a skewed angle on his head. “We had such a pleasant time this afternoon.” His tone was nonchalant, but James could see the wicked gleam in his eye in his reflection, the one nobody else seemed to.   
  
Protective, possessive anger over his future bride filled his chest, and he spun around, drawing himself up to tower over Harold. “Stay the hell away from her, Harold! Lady Rose is not some new toy for you to play your sick games with.” He brandished the razor between them, fighting the ever growing urge to purge the world of the wickedness that his brother so flawlessly hid.   
  
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Harold chuckled, smoothing the red sash over his white uniform. James growled, throwing the razor aside, as he grabbed a wet towel and shoved past his brother to wipe his face. “Are you still talking about that harlot who was found in the brothel missing her tongue? I told you and Father I had nothing to do with it. I was with Lucy, the merchant’s daughter, all night at at the Spring Solstice Festival, and then I came right home.”     
  
“I’ll believe that when Skaro decides to stop trying to invade Karn.” James snapped. He was already irritated that Harold had told Sarah Jane he would greet Rose, despite him telling Harold five times to leave her alone, and now he was rubbing it in his face. “Get out, Harold, before I have to explain to Father why you’re showing up with a black eye!” He grabbed his own uniform coat, yanking it on, as Harold disappeared from the room whistling. Honestly, Harold knew he loathed him, and yet he constantly found reasons to annoy him. James pulled his own, gold sash over his shoulder and smoothed it into place, before snagging his black coronet and slipping it onto his head.   
  
James paused briefly to examine himself in a mirror. He needed to relax, calm himself before he stepped into the wing and met his queen to be. He wasn’t nervous, per se, but he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect either. He had only seen her once in the last five years, and that was the briefest of glimpses when she was delirious with fever at thirteen and still just a girl. Now, though, she was fifteen. Rose Tyler was officially old enough to be courted, and while the age difference still cause him a bit of unease, he was thankful that he would not be required, nor permitted, to do more than escort her, hold her hand, and occasionally hug or hold her if need arose. Kissing and other such sweet affections were barred until a year of courting, and then only to be done chastely and in view of a chaperone.   
  
Smoothing his coat, he turned to the door and opened it. He stepped back, gasping in shock as Sarah Jane’s raised hand nearly knocked his nose. “Easy there!” He laughed, taking her fingers and kissing the knuckles affectionately. He adored the woman, almost as much as he had loved his mother, since she had practically raised him since he was five. “Almost took my nose off, Sarah Jane.”   
  
“Sorry, James.” He had forbidden her years ago from using his title unless they were in a formal setting. “Lady Rose is ready for you.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement, as she stepped back to let him close the door behind her. “I think your mother would be very pleased with her. She’s beautiful, inside and out James.” Sarah Jane reached up to straighten his coronet, cupping his face softly. “I know I am.”   
  
“Bring her down.” James swallowed as Sarah Jane nodded, heading back up the stairs. He tried not to rush down to the main floor. Honestly, he was more than a little anxious. Rose’s letters had never seemed very personal, as if she were afraid to divulge things to him. He did care for her, in a small way, but he didn’t know enough to love her. He didn’t even know if he ever could truly love her like his parents had loved each other. He reached the last step, walking out to look up just as the door opened overhead.   
  
For a brief while, all he could see was her blue skirts and hand on the rail. James was pleased to note Rose was wearing not only her engagement ring, but also the bracelet he had set in her room before retiring to rest. He had no doubt the necklace and earrings would be sparkling against her skin as well. He wondered how she looked now, no doubt lovely, but in his minds eye he had only the memory of a girl now higher than his bicep glowering at him.   
  
As she grew closer, her head was down, one hand holding her breathtaking dress up so she could navigate the stairs, with Sarah Jane’s hand on her back guiding her, and James found himself swallowing again at the elegant curves of her waist, and the sunkissed glow of her exposed shoulders and neck. Snapping to attention as Rose reached the bottom floor, he got only the briefest glimpse of scarlet painted lips and amber eyes as she looked up for less than a breath before spreading her skirts, lowering her gaze, and curtsying low. “Your Highness.” Her voice was soft, hesitant, but no longer held the trill of youth. It was fuller now, as womanly as the body encased in the winter blue bodice.   
  
“My Lady.” James bowed at the waist, forcing his hand not to tremble as he extended it down to her. Rose placed her left fingers delicately in his, and he pressed his lips to them. Her face lifted, as he brought her gently to his feet, and James felt his breath leave him. She was stunning, no, heart stutteringly beautiful. Her bright amber eyes lined with kohl, dusted with a blue shimmer. Her face still held some of her youth, speaking her fifteen years, but her cheekbones were delicately proud, framing a sweet button nose, and below it, full lips that were curving up into a wide, dazzling smile. Manners fled his mind, as his eyes trailed over her dress, taking in her petite but fully developed figure, the way her chest rose and fell, enunciating her clavicles and elegant neck, down to the flowing sleeves that brushed along her arms, and the Star embroidered skirts that covered what he was sure were just as lovely legs. “Blimey.” He gasped, hearing Sarah Jane chuckle softly behind Rose, and felt his lips turn up in a smile.   
  
“Don’t laugh.” Rose’s eyes widened as they darted over his face, looking hesitant. Her fingers flexed against his, as her smile fell just a bit.   
  
“You look beautiful.” James couldn’t stop the words from rolling off of his tongue in amazement. Then her sudden blush and giggle, as her tongue touched her lip reminded him of her age, and he quickly shook himself mentally before adding. “Considering.” He dodged a glare from Sarah Jane, as he released Rose’s hand to turn and gesture her forward.   
  
“Considering what?” Rose sounded offended, but the tone was veiled by a quick. “My Prince?” As she took her appropriate position on his left, leaving his sword hand free. Her eyes cut sideways up at him, keen, critical, and he knew instantly that the cleverness he had once slighted had only grown sharper.   
  
“That you’re fifteen, my Lady.” He offered the words as if it were a passing thought that he had forgotten to mention. He wasn’t sure how she would respond, if she would accept his cover up as a proper lady, with a polite dismissal or if she would fire back with the tenacity of her father. He didn’t expect a wry laugh, as she turned her head to look fully at him.   
  
“I think that’s a compliment.” Rose’s words held the perfect balance of politeness and challenge, and as he opened the hall door to allow her to pass, he offered her a smirk. She was a bit feisty, which was good. He enjoyed a confident woman who could stand up to his blatant opinions. Then, as she took his proffered arm, she smiled, not a coy or demure one, no. It was a broad spread of her lips, exposing her teeth, making her eyes dance with a mischievous twinkle, as her tongue curled up to touch her teeth, and he knew that she would definitely make his life an adventure.   
  
“Shall we to dinner, my Lady?” James asked, as her fingers tightened briefly on his forearm. The touch felt surprisingly right, as he guided her to the stairs.   
  
“We shall, my Prince.” Rose released his arm to lift her skirts as the ascended, and James kept a careful hand on her lower back. “I’m pleased that your journey home was untroubled, though you didn’t rest for two days.” Damn Harold and his big mouth. It wasn’t proper to tell a man’s intended such things. It made him look weak. Yet, as they reached the landing, and she retook his arm, he was gifted with a sweet smile and shy eyes. “I was flattered by your determination to be here.”   
  
“I hope my brother was cordial with you upon your arrival.” James prided himself at keeping his loathing of that incident to himself. Rose gave a pleased sort of hum that told him Harold had been working his charismatic charm on her, though, when he looked down, there was no blush or coy grin that often bespoke when a woman was ignorant of Harold’s true nature.   
  
“Harry was a perfect gentleman, I assure you.” Rose released his arm again to start down the steps that would lead to the main foyer and corridor to the banquet halls. “He relayed your apology, with a certain emphasis that you were loathed to miss receiving me, and assured me your absence was at no less than the King’s order.” James was satisfied by her words, and he wondered if maybe Harold had finally heeded his warnings at keeping his hands off Rose. “If I may speak freely, your Highness.” Rose paused as they reached the ground floor, looking down in a hesitant manner.   
  
“You may always speak freely with me, my  Lady.” James offered her an inviting smile, as he moved one finger to lift her chin up. If he was to court her properly, he may as well start now. “And when we are alone.” He heard Sarah Jane make a pleased sort of noise behind him. “Or as alone as we can be with your chaperone, as well as outside of formal occasions, call me James.” Rose’s bright eyes softened considerably.   
  
“The anticipation of waiting was worth every breath, James.” There was a sincerity in her voice, and James let himself stroke the curve of her chin with a thumb before lowering his hand to offer his arm again.   
  
“I find I am of the same conclusion, Rose.” There was that smile again, as she looped her hand through his arm, and she relaxed visibly. It was so sudden, that he wondered how he had missed how tense she was, because while her posture was still prim, it became smooth as she walked, and her smile didn’t disappear this time.   
  
He was feeling more relaxed himself, though there was that nagging sensation again about their age gap. There was nothing to be done about it, so he shoved his thoughts aside as they approach the door to the banquet hall. Sir Jack Harkness, Captain James’ personal guard and his first man, was waiting there, flanked by two guards. James arched an eyebrow to the man as his blue eyes took in the lovely young woman on his arm. “Rose, darling, May I present Sir Jack Harkness, Captain of my personal card and my closest friend. Jack, is my pleasure to finally introduce you to my future queen, the Lady Rose Tyler.”   
  
Jack executed a sharp bell, which rose answered with a short curtsy. “The honor is entirely mine, my Prince, my Lady.” For once his friend was lacking his overt flirtatious tone, though the look on his eye when he met James’ said he found her as equally stunning as he did. “The King has just arrived, and I was asked to announce you.” James nodded formally, and one guard opened the door just enough to let Jack slip in.   
  
“Are you ready?” James heard Rose swallow and draw a deep breath. He was fighting the urge to do so as well. After tonight, everything would become entirely official, and the formal news of their courtship and betrothal wound be announced to the Kingdom.   
  
“If you are.” She looked up at her, those whiskey eyes flicking between his, and James reached up to cover the hand she had resting on his forearm. He smiled reassuringly at her, and squeezed her fingers as Jack’s voice echoed through the door.   
  
“Announcing his Royal highness, James Jonathan Wilfred Saxon, crown prince of Gallifrey, and the lady Rose Marion Tyler, of the Powell Estate!” The guards opened both doors this time, allowing them to step through together, and they were greeted by applause and smiles. It was mostly lesser nobles, as the higher titled ones were busy preparing for possible war, a few ambassadors from neighboring kingdoms like Karn and San Kaloon, off duty guards and knights, and some well respected merchants and tradesmen.   
  
He led Rose to his father, Who was standing behind the head table, and bowed low while Rose curtsied all the way to the floor. “Father, I request the Lady Rose joins us at our table.” James his father’s proud face, but spoke loud enough for all present to hear. “Because I intend to court her, with both your and her father’s blessing.”   
  
“Rise James, Rose.” Rassilon’s voice always commanded authority, even when he was happy. James righted himself, taking Rose’s land to lift her to her feet. “And join me, as all present take note that Prince James has staked his claim on Rose’s heart, and she has come here to accept his courtship!” Applause echoed loudly this time, joined with some shouts and pounding of feet, and James led Rose around to her seat on his right, since his father was on his left.   
  
Harold was on the King’s other side, clapping just as loudly, with his well practice grin on his face. James was happy for the distance between his brother and the innocent girl who laced her fingers through his as his father called the room to silence. He looked over at Rose, watching as she bowed her head and smiled that tongue touched way again. It warmed James’ heart to see her happy, given their first encounter and their cold letters. So, he bowed his head as well, squeezing her fingers, as the King asked for the blessings of the gods and goddesses on the meal, the Kingdom, and their engagement.   
  
Rose had to admit she was a bit in awe of the man who would be her husband. James was handsome, imposingly so, especially in his black formal uniform and coronet. They only served to enhance his striking features: the dominant nose, the round but proud jaw leading down to a balanced square chin, his soaring cheekbones, and those intense eyes that seemed to pierce right into her mind when he looked at her. She realized, somewhere around her second glass of wine, that her dress and jewelry were the exact shade of blue. His ears were a bit large, but they brought a charming characteristic balance to the rest of him, and Rose had adored them almost at once.   
  
The conversation was light and open, with King Rassilon asking after her father’s preparations and her mother’s pregnancy. James was surprised at that news, and had immediately demanded a toast to a healthy and easy birth, which was echoed with much enthusiasm. Harold was quick with banter, and seemed to enjoy toeing the line on irritating James. While she had never grown up with siblings, she had played enough with the Manor staff’s children to enjoy the sibling ribbing.   
  
It was when the food and drink gave way to the doors of the ballroom being opened, that she grew nervous again. Rose knew, of course, all of the steps. Her tutors had ensured she did, but she had never danced in such an elegant gown, nor with a man who was more than a friend. She placed her fingers in James’ as he led her with the crowd into the ballroom. She readied herself, trying to recall what dance with the song the musicians had begun playing, but her memory failed her. Then, to her surprise, James led her to the far back and quickly acquired two flutes of champagne.   
  
“I’m loathed to say.” He muttered softly, as if afraid anyone would overhear. “That I am not much of a dancer. I’ll be happy to go with you, if you ask, but I don’t want to embarrass you.” Relief washed through her at his words, since she still could not recall this particular waltz.   
  
“I don’t think my tutors covered this particular one, James. So I wouldn’t be opposed to just watching.” Rose sipped her champagne, making note to have this last one. It wouldn’t do to become inebriated on her first night. It was nice to find out that James had a flaw, and the humble way he admitted it endeared her to him. She tried to find something to talk about, but was unsure how to broach a conversation since their earlier one had covered the basics. The sparkle of her bracelet caught her eye, and she touched his arm. “I don’t think I thanked you for your welcome gifts. They are beautiful, and knowing they were your mother’s, I promise to always treasure them.”   
  
“They suit you, Rose, and seeing them out on such a lovely woman makes me feel like she is right here.” Rose felt her cheeks flush as James spoke softly, looking down to her, not at her, as his smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. He downed his champagne and set the flute on a passing server’s tray, his jaw clenching as if he wanted to say something. Not knowing why, Rose reached up and touched the muscle that twitched just in front of his ear. James relaxed with a sigh, before pulling her hand away and holding it to his forearm. “Earlier you asked if you may speak freely, and now I find myself wondering the same. Seeing as the last time I spoke freely to you, I caused you grief.”   
  
Rose looked away from his eyes, staring out at the dancers. The look on his face as he spoke said he was uncomfortable, and she wondered why, if it was something she had done. He obviously wanted to speak it, and she was nearly grown. She wouldn’t run off and cry anymore. Yet, her throat thickened as she looked back up to him. “I think it would not be much of a courtship, nor marriage, if we are afraid to say what is on our minds. What if we agree now to always speak freely and honestly with each other? It will undoubtedly save us misconstrued conversations later.” She arched an eyebrow at him, taking a drink of her champagne.   
  
“Already speaking with the ideas of a queen.” James chuckled softly, before he lowered his voice. “I feel strange, my Lady, presenting you as my betrothed with such an age gap between us.” Rose was unable to fight back the defensive puff she drew, lifting her chin proudly and straightening her posture even more to emphasize that she was a woman, and if they were not titled, they would have been able to wed a month go on her name day. “No offense is meant, I just wanted to explain why I have not been so open with such affections as befitting our relationship.”   
  
Rose wasn’t unnerved by the age difference. She would have undoubtedly married someone at least five years her senior had she not been promised to him. Besides, her parents had eight years between them. She did feel somewhat slighted, however, as his words reaffirmed his backhanded compliment when he had greeted her. “Well, your Highness, it would not do to make you uncomfortable.” She pulled her hand from his arm, offering him her most polite smile, and rested her fingers against her dress. Then turned away from his stunned, raised eyebrows, noting as he raised two fingers by his side. Almost immediately, Captain Jack approached them. “Captain, well met.” She raised her champagne glass in greeting, before draining the last mouthful and handing it off to a server who had hurried over. Jack’s sapphire eyes sparkled in delight, as he bowed slightly.   
  
“My Prince, I was wondering if I could impose on your Lady for a quick dance.” It was at his words that Rose realized James had summoned him over, obviously as a way to get free of her. Rose could slap the man for doing that. She didn’t wait for James to speak, quickly extending her hand to Jack.   
  
“You may, Captain.” Rose went easily with him as he twirled her out into the crowd. Once they were a safe distance away, she settled her hand on Jack’s muscular bicep and fell in time to the more elegant waltz that had begun. She waited for a moment, holding his gaze with unveiled curiosity before his lips turned up into a smile. Then she scoffed. “Is that your job as First Man, Captain, getting rid of the Prince’s annoyances?” She knew the question was forward, but she was honestly too miffed to care.   
  
“Well at first I was going to steal him away for some imaginary minor emergency.” Jack chuckled, turning her back to his chest for a quick spin before resuming the appropriate posture. “Then I decided it would be much more enjoyable to see if you danced as beautifully as you smile.” His easy grin twisted into a roguish one for a flicker, before he seized her waist in a lifted twirl.   
  
Rose couldn’t help but giggle at his forward behavior. The blatant compliment was harmless, but it did boost her ego. “Captain!” She feigned a shocked look, as they stepped apart to raise their palms together and then back in. “I am a claimed woman, and you have the audacity to flirt with me? You should be ashamed.” She smiled broadly to let him know she was just teasing, then added. “And as the Prince seems keen on pointing out, I’m only a month past fifteen.”   
  
“And if you weren’t titled.” Jack smirked as he pulled her close for a breath then spun her out. “You’d be married already.” That was exactly what Rose had been thinking. “We never said the Prince was a smart man.” They separated to curtsy and bow as the song ended.   
  
“I’ll have you know I can read and count to five just fine!” Harold’s upbeat voice made her turn, but she noted Jack stiffened up. “Captain Harkness, if you don’t mind, I’ll claim the next dance with this exquisite flower.” He extended his hand with a deep bow, and Rose gave Jack an apologetic smile as she took it. “Was he being crass, my Lady?” Harold ask as Jack moved on to a woman nearby.   
  
“Not at all.” Rose grinned, as Harold’s hand found her waist, maintaining the appropriate distance between them. She didn’t have to look up much to take in his open and kind face. “I like Jack very much, actually. His candor is refreshing!” She gasped in surprise as Harry lowered her back for a dipped spin she had forgotten about, then laughed as he raised her up.   
  
“Are you implying that over the last five years, I have been insincere with you Rosie dear?” Harry made a sound of fake offense. “Well my apologies, I shall have to mend my-“ Spun Rose out by one hand, and gasped in shock as James snagged her arm gently and swiftly cut in. “Ways...”   
  
“Rose!” James laughed, his sudden exuberance catching her off guard, as his blue eyes sparkled down at her with open admiration. “I just remembered! I can dance!” The joy she saw on his face, and the absolutely cheeky grin he was wearing erased her irritation at their conversation, and she lost herself in the quick pace of the song. For the rest of the evening Rose learned that her betrothed could indeed dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rose’s dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/373024781619912864/#details?amp_client_id=HaaMvAq9h5ILWyRJQpr7b0JpYRnR71XG-Hg2igIZuUB_KEXlFlYJoSOk41EWbF94&mweb_unauth_id=7d917d3339b4d3577455bf28b7886a45)


	4. Chapter 4

Rose ignored the biting cold as she ducked low behind a fallen log. One thing she loved about winter, was that it was absolutely excusable for her to wear pants for riding. She rubbed her chilled palms together, as her gloves were stuffed in the pocket of her fur coat, and listened closely for the tale tell sound of crunching steps in the snow. Her heart was pounding, lungs burning as she tried to keep her breathing quiet. “Found you!” A loosely packed snow ball caught her in the side, and she squealed loudly as Harold was perched on a thick evergreen branch less than two meters away, grinning like a cat. “No matter where you run, Rosie, I’m going to find you!”    
  
“You can try!” Rose taunted him, racing away into the woods, laughing just as wildly as he was. She ducked behind a thick oak, spying her mare, Astraea, just up ahead. Her silver coat nearly blended in with the snow, and she would have missed her if not for the red and gold saddle pad and reins. She had been a Yule gift from James, and Rose had been out enjoying the fresh snowfall in the Kingswood when Harold had snuck up initiated a sudden game of guerrilla snow warfare. She was losing horribly, and the only way to avoid getting covered in anymore snow was to retreat. She dashed across the snow covered bridge that spanned the nearly empty and frozen river, and pulled herself up into the saddle. “Run, Astraea! Go!” She turned the reins, angling for the castle wall. Beautiful, obedient girl she was, Astraea broke into a ground eating gallop up the well worn trail.    
  
“That’s cheating!” Harold’s voice echoed after her, and Rose leaned forward to give Astraea her head. She had no idea where his mount was, but there were no sounds of hoofbeats behind her. Rose shook back her hood as she drew near the guarded gate, letting the sentries see her smile, and they both laughed as she raced past them. At least they didn’t lecture her on riding out unescorted like her personal guard was going to once she reached the stables. So she had said she was going to do a circuit of the grounds, roughly two hours ago.    
  
Suddenly a war cry rang from behind her, and she looked back to find Harold racing after her on one of his casual horses instead of his usual battle mount, a snowball in his hand. “No!” Rose turned Astraea around the path, her eyes zeroed in on the warm up paddock fence, and she urged her wonderful mare forward. Up she soared, snow stinging her face, crossing the paddock in less than five heart beats, and soaring again to seek shelter on the opposite side of the stables.    
  
“Rose! What in the blazes-“ James darted out of the doors, face wide with worry, flanked by three stable hands. Her gallant Prince was right on time, and she kicked her right foot up out of the stirrup as he skidded to a stop in the snow.    
  
“Save me!” She shouted, pushing herself up to stand shakily on the saddle before leaping into his arms. He caught her with an oof, clutching her flush against him, as Astraea executed a wide turn, slowing to a trot to make her way to the stable hands. “He’s after me!”    
  
“Who’s after you?!” James tucked her behind his back, hand flying to the dagger she knew was concealed on his hip, just as Harold cleared the paddock fence himself, and she gasped, biting her lip with a wince, as she heard and felt the snowball aimed for her collide with his face. “Damn it to hell Harold! What are you, fifteen?” Rose huffed in offense, delivering a jab to his back through the thick leather jacket. She heard Harold’s manic laugh as he galloped away. She was still giggling when James whirled around, eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously down at her. “Where the hell were you?! Two hours, Rose!” He wasn’t yelling, really, but the tone was one that made her feel suddenly ten again.    
  
“I took Astraea for a ride in the Kingswood.” Rose did her best not to wince back, but he had never turned that look on her before. His men had a name for that look, the flashing of his eyes like lightning, the way his jaw tightening, teeth grinding like thunder, it was The Oncoming Storm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone so long. I only intended to ride to the bridge and back, but Harold-“    
  
“Be quiet for five minutes, Rose Marion Tyler, and come with me.” James grabbed her elbow, and when she struggled to free herself as he dragged her up the snow covered path, he growled and squeezed tighter, making her stumble as dull pain shot up her arm.    
  
“James! You’re hurting me! Stop it!” Rose looked around for Sarah Jane’s ever present smile or even Jack’s keen eye, but nobody except a few men laying salt down on the paths were visible. Anger began warring with the fear, as she struggled to free her arm. “Let me go or I’ll scream!”    
  
“I said be quiet!” He growled, pushing her in front of him as they reached the gardeners toolshed, which sat abandoned due to the impending winter storm. Rose was about to yell, to scream for help, her heart racing in panic and rage as he wrenched the door open. She tried kicking at him, but he blocked her boot with his own and spun her, shoving her inside the tool filled building.    
  
It was dim inside, the only light visible through the half snow covered windows and the still partially opened door as he backed her up to a table. She reached back, aiming to slap him, but he caught her wrist, his whole body heaving as he drew in and exhaled raging breaths. “Never, and I mean, never, let me find out you went into the Kingswood with Harold again.” His voice was barely controlled lethality, and Rose half expected a blow to land on her face, though he had never so much as raised his voice to her before now. “I don’t care how many guards or chaperones you have. If myself or Jack are not with you, you are never to go into those trees with him again. Do you understand me?”    
  
“Y-yes, Your Highness.” Rose gasped as he released her wrist, and she pressed herself as far away from him as possible. She didn’t understand why he was so furious. Harold was her friend, her future brother in law. “I would never, we didn’t, he followed me and I didn’t know. I swear we didn’t even touch!” The cold was getting to her now, as James gave an exasperated sound and dragged his hands down his face. She forced back the tears stinging her eyes, lowering her head as she waited for him to say something else, anything else. “My Prince, please let me pass. I’m frightened.”    
  
“You’re frightened?!” James’ cold laugh made her look up as he prowled towards her. “You’re frightened?! Rose, I was about to start a bloody search party because you disappeared! Then Harold was missing, and I thought... gods above and below! if you knew what I knew you would have been far more frightened out there!” He did shout then, before reaching down and cupping her face in his calloused hands. “I have never given you an order, have I?” Rose shook her head as much as she could, too breathless to speak. “No, because I trust you. Do you understand me? I trust you, and gods help me, I never, ever want to see you hurt.” His thumbs brushed her cheeks. “Just for your own safety, never go into the Kingswood with my brother again. That’s an edict. I will write it down and seal it if you make me.”    
  
Rose swallowed, raising her shaking hands up in the dim light to push against his chest as she nodded. Finding her voice she managed to whisper. “You hurt me, James. You hurt my arm.” His hands fell away immediately, as he stepped back, his half shadowed face going white in horror. She rubbed the spot where he had grabbed her, shivering hard now as the melted snow soaking her pants and hair mixed with the fear. Then the anger returned, fueled by his sudden silence and stonelike stance. Giving a growl of her own, she lashed out, wincing as her wind bitten palm collided with his cheek. The crack resounded off of the tools, wheelbarrows, and empty buckets. James hissed in pain, his face turning to the side, but he didn’t speak. “Apologize!” Rose sobbed before gritting her teeth, drawing her hand back, and striking again as he looked down at her with his face full of remorse. The second slap made him stumble, but he made no move to stop her. Then Rose gasped, drawing her hand back, a new type of fear flooding her. She had struck the Crown Prince, not once but twice, and that alone was enough to have her arrested. “James, Please, I-“   
  
“I deserved those, Rose. I’m sorry.” He touched his cheek as he whispered, leaning back into the wall and sliding down to the half frozen, sawdust floor. “I shouldn’t have put my hands on you like that. There’s no excuse, ever, for me to handle you in such a way. Tell my Father if you wish, or tell yours. I won’t say you slapped me, I swear.” The raw emotion in his voice made Rose stop in her escape to the door. “Call off the engagement if you need to. I will admit to it, just... I am so sorry.”    
  
Rose pushed the door open wider, to let more light in, shuddering as the wind whipped heavier snow around them. A blizzard was brewing, but she ignored it as she moved to kneel down in front of James. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and he stared at his hands as if he wasn’t sure they belonged to him. She knew he was truly sorry, could see it in the slack of his jaw as he sniffed hard, his fingers trembling. She inched her hand forward, her chest tight, fingers numb and tingling from the slaps, to stroke the now visible red mark on his cheek. He leaned his cheek into her palm, and finally those crystalline eyes met her, red rimmed and full contrition. “I forgive you.” She whispered, and her breath caught as his eyes closed, and his lips turned to press into her palm. “Swear to me you’ll never touch me in such a manner again.”    
  
“I swear, on my Mother’s grave, Rose. I swear!” James’ eyes shot open, pleading for her to believe him. The rest of her fear and anger dissipated, because she knew how much he had loved his mother. She sniffled, leaning forward to kiss his forehead once before pulling away. “Show me where, love. Show me where I dishonored you, please.”    
  
Rose shrugged her arm out of her coat, rolling back the thick sleeves of her winter tunic, revealing three red marks where his fingers and thumb had squeezed and pulled. “Here.” She held her breath as he raised his hand to stroke the marks with the tenderest of touches, but she had to exhale as her heart skipped when James lowered his lips to place three tender kisses on them. Her stomach went sort of fluttery as his lips traveled down to her hand, and he kissed the engagement ring three times as well. A gust of wind ripped into the shed, making her shudder again.    
  
“We best get you inside, before you catch lung fever.” James sighed, easing her sleeves down gently and helping her with her coat. “Up you get, love.” He moved to his feet, helping her to stand, and then stepped out into the near curtain of angry, puffy flakes. Rose stumbled after him, the wind knocking her off balance as she shut the shed door behind her. “Rose, stay close to me!” His hand flailed back as he shielded his face, and she grabbed it.    
  
“I’m glad I came back when I did!” Rose called over the wind. She would have been back much sooner if not for Harold, but if she had played his game much longer, they’d both be trapped in the forest. She still didn’t understand why James was furious about Harold, but she wasn’t going to bring it up, not until they were both calm and past this incident.    
  
“So am I!” To her surprise, James turned, scooping her into his arms. She clung to his neck, burying her face in his warm, thick woolen shirt and leather jacket. “I’m going to carry you. Do not wiggle!” Rose had no plans to, as she breathed in his aftershave. She was cold, as the wind bit through even her thick fur coat, and she squeezed her eyes tight until she felt him step up out of the pace slowing snow. The loud thud of his boots on wood made her look, and she as she cleared snow from her eyes, she found herself surrounded in the rich, delicious smelling, hot air of the kitchens.    
  
“Your Highness!” A sweet looking, plump, middle aged woman with a flour stained apron curtsied swiftly. “My Lady! You both look half frozen. Come, sit, I’ll warm you some wine and meat!”    
  
“Thank you, Helena, but I need to get my Rose upstairs to change.” He squeezed her tightly against his chest, rubbing her arms. “But I would consider it a personal favor if you sent up some hot spiced rum coco with a tray of warm bread and that delicious chowder I smell to the library.” Helena clapped her hands, and kitchen maids went to work.    
  
“You can put me down.” Rose offered, as James resumed his trek across the kitchens and up into the hallway. She was still shivering, but feeling was slowly returning to her fingers and cheeks. She found herself blushing, as two guards nodded at them, and a maid carrying a mop and bucket paused to let them pass. “James, it isn’t proper-“   
  
“I’m escorting my lady to her chamber door. Where I will request she meets me in the library to share a late lunch. How is that not proper?” James scoffed as he took her up the main stairs up to the walkway that led to the indoor courtyard and royal wing beyond. As they reached the balcony that held the offices, Rose felt her blush darken even more as King Rassilon looked up from a scroll Jack was holding.    
  
“I see you found your missing fiancée.” The King chuckled, as Jack flashed her a wink. “Where was she?”    
  
“I was delayed in the Kingswood, your Majesty. I only returned just before the storm began.” Rose had forgiven James, and there was no reason to drag Harold into it either. “I’m afraid not before I caught a touch of the frost though.”    
  
“Sarah Jane will be relieved to hear you are safe. She just went up to check your chambers again.” Rassilon turned back to Jack, and James chuckled as he carried her down the stairs, and kicked the door leading to the royal wing open.    
  
“Liar liar.” James teased, his blue eyes dancing in delight as she smiled down at her. They made it to the first floor landing when Sarah Jane looked over the rail.    
  
“Rose, sweetheart thank goodness! I was worried sick!” Sarah Jane was visibly relieved as they climbed up. As valiant as James was trying to be, Rose could see he was growing winded. She opened her mouth to protest that he put her down at his door and let her walk up, but he silenced her with an arched eyebrow. So she shut her lips until they were standing in front of Sarah Jane. “What happened to your face?!”    
  
“I fell.” James lowered Rose gently to the floor, holding steady until she regained her balance. She winced as she caught sight of the handprint shaped welt on his face, and swallowed.    
  
“Don’t you lie to me, James Jonathan Wilfred.” Rose knew Sarah Jane had special permission to be so personal with the Princes, but she had never heard her use such a maternal tone in the five months she had been here. James, bless him, looked every way like a child who got caught lying about sneaking sweets.    
  
“I slapped him.” Rose didn’t want to lie to Sarah Jane, who had become like an aunt and surrogate mother to her. The woman’s lips popped open, as James gave Rose an exasperated look. “He didn’t do anything that would question my honor. I swear, but the argument is over, and we’ve forgiven each other.” She went up on her toes to kiss the welts. “Right Darling?”    
  
“Quite right.” James entire face flushed to his ears, which shocked Rose to no end. She had never seen him blush before, and it was probably the most adorable thing she had seen in her life. “Sarah Jane, could you help my lady into something warm and dry while I change, and bring her to the third floor of the library tower? She nodded, fixing them both with another look, before ushering Rose into her room.    
  
“What did he do?” Sarah Jane’s voice was quiet but firm as she rushed her into the bedroom to change. “And don’t lie to me either, Rose Marion. I know my boys, though I didn’t carry and birth them, and I know when James is ashamed of something he’s done, which isn’t often.” She began pulling Rose’s arms out of her sleeves.    
  
Rose didn’t want to say, didn’t want to get him into trouble since she had forgiven him. So she chewed her lip until her arm became visible, and Sarah Jane gasped at the fading marks. She lifted the arm up, looking at Rose with an absolutely stunned face, and before she could ask, Rose pulled her arm free. “Yes, James did that, but it was an accident. I swear. He was furious that Harold had followed me into the Kingswood, but he didn’t mean to. It wouldn’t have hurt if I hadn’t tried to kick him or yank my arm free.”   
  
“You were in the Kingswood alone with Harold?” Sarah Jane sighed in exasperation as she shook her head, pointing down for Rose to shed her wet pants and boots. “That is highly inappropriate, to go riding alone with a man, especially if that man is not your intended! Still, it doesn’t excuse him putting hands on you. If he ever does it again, you tell me directly, understand?” Rose looked away as Sarah Jane handed her a warmed towel to dry herself with. “I take it that’s why you slapped him?” She nodded, and Sarah Jane made an irritated huffing sigh. “Well, at least you made amends.”    
  
“Sarah Jane?” Rose had an idea, one that may help with her predicament of James viewing her as a teenager and not progressing their courtship, which was at the six month mark. By now, it was expected for them to have been caught sneaking out for a late night meeting at the stables or having to be shushed apart by a chaperone when they got too familiar. The moment in the shed, the soft kisses on her marks, and the carrying was the most James had touched her in the entire time, unless they were dancing. “Could I have some time completely alone with the Prince, please?” Sarah Jane’s mouth opened, as she stepped in front  of her after lacing her dress. “You know James, and you know me? Do you think either of us will do anything to bring shame on our marriage bed? Just an hour and a half, please.”    
  
“You...” Sarah Jane grabbed an indoor cloak and muff to protect her from the drafty halls and sighed. Her motherly eyes bore into Rose’s and then, nearly imperceptibly, softened. “Fine, one and a half hours. When I come up there....” Rose giggled, leaning forward to kiss her cheek,  before stepping into a pair of fur lined flat shoes, tying her cloak around her, and racing out the door. She didn’t stop at James’ floor, because she knew he would already have changed and gone up. So she stole down the hall, cutting to the library tower doors, and began the spiraling climb. It was at the second floor, however, that she was brought to a stop. Whispered words, angry and harsh had her moving from the landing and creeping behind a bookcase.    
  
“You are unbelievable! I would never-“ Harold’s protest was cut short as James spun on him, prowling like a weyrlion to pin him against a tapestry. “I didn’t think it wise she was out there alone, so I followed her.” Rose gasped, covering her mouth as she pressed herself flat and peered through a gap in the books, heart pounding.    
  
“You can’t fool me, Harold. Touch her, lay one finger on her in any way I deem inappropriate or harmful, and you won’t like what I do.” James’ voice was quiet but had a certain lethality to it that told her he was quite capable of bringing harm to the younger prince. “Rose is not some toy for you to get your thrills with. You will never have her, so leave her be!” There was a moment of silence so heavy she wondered how they didn’t hear her racing heart. “Get out of my presence! Now!”    
  
Rose ducked deeper into the shadows, as Harold fled the room. She held her breath, as James followed and tried to calm herself until she heard his footsteps overhead. Only then did she peel herself away from the books to move to the stairs. She wasn’t sure, now, if being alone with James was a wise idea. He was leaning against a fireplace tucked in a corner, staring down at the flames. Their lunch rested on a low table nearby, surrounded by lush cushions obviously meant to create comfortable area to recline by the fire. She pulled them off from her hands, twisting it in her fingers.   
  
James looked troubled, but no long angry. She didn’t want another row, but neither did she want to leave without answers to the questions racing in her mind. Did he think she wanted Harold? Did he wonder if she was being loyal to their engagement? Was that the source of his threats to his brother, to his outburst in the gardeners’ shed? Rose didn’t want Harold, nor would she ever dream of dishonoring James’ courtship. She was falling in love with her Prince, despite the way he kept his affections towards her to a minimum. She knew that was only due to her age, and if she were older, he would have kissed her by now. James would have begun to hold her waist when they walked, instead of her arm or hand, if she were seventeen or eighteen. These things she knew, she longed for, but was patient enough to not push for. “James, what’s wrong?” Those crisp eyes snapped to her, tight, critical, but then they softened to a look of adoration that made her face warm, and all traces of worry disappeared as he smiled.    
  
“Rose, there you are.” James relaxed, as he always did when her sweet face came into a room. He loved the way his name fell from her lips, the concern almost tangible as it always was when she disturbed his brooding. Except, she wasn’t smiling his smile. Rose looked confused and afraid, just as she had in the gardeners’ shed, when he had so horribly let his anger at his brother and fear for her safety overwhelm him. He knew, instantly that she had overheard him and Harold, but how much had her innocent ears taken in?   
  
Did she hear how Jack had caught Harold watching her paint in the garden last month, as he twirled a small knife in his fingers? When Jack had confronted him, Harold had simply produced an apple from seemingly nowhere, cut off a slice, and wandered off without a word. Was what she had overheard Harold again deny he was responsible for the redhaired milkmaid’s broken arm and her sudden decision to take employment as a laundry maid in Arcadia? He had to respond, say something to rid her face of that look that said she wasn’t sure she knew who James was at all. “I was worried you would not join me, after my appalling behavior.” It was only then he noticed she was unescorted. Neither Sarah Jane nor any handmaidens were in sight. “My Lady, you have no chaperone!”    
  
“Sarah Jane will be up in an hour and a half.” Rose’s voice was tight, as she drew closer to him, the white fur muff in her hands twisted nearly into a knot. “James, you must believe I would never, ever permit any man touch me in anyway that would mar my honor. I am yours, until you decide to put me aside.” Her amber eyes were wide with honesty and confusion. “Why would you think that I would ever give Harold permission of any sort to challenge your claim? You don’t need to threaten him to stay away. If you had only asked, I would have told him to maintain a cordial distance. He is to be my brother, and I treat him as such.”    
  
James wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that she had only heard the tale end of their conversation or dread that she did not know the truth that on he, Jack, and Harold’s victims did. He wanted to tell her, to warn her of the dangers that lurked inside the castle walls, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t make accusations without physical proof or testimony from the women. “I do not doubt your honor, Rose.” He reached out, stilling her clenched fingers, tossing the muff aside to pull her close and kiss both hands. The worry faded, though confusion remained, and he  pulled her gently to sit by the table. This had to be approached delicately. “Harold desires you, as would any man. I know my brother.” He folded his legs to sit beside her, releasing her fingers to pour her a goblet of the rumspiked coco to warm her belly. “He can be singleminded in pursuit of what he wants, and sometimes, when he drinks, he can get too bold, too careless of propriety. I would not want any accusations to come to you, should he forget his manners and pursue you where someone may witness it.”    
  
Rose drew a breath, taking her drink into trembling fingers, before exhaling and visibly relaxing. “Then I will not be alone with him again.” There it was, James’ favorite smile, the one that made him forget all worries and cares. How Rose had managed to be unable to undo him in five short months was beyond him, but she had. “My heart and love belong to you, and you alone, always.” Her cheeks flushed as she must have realized what she said, and James felt his own heart soar in response.    
  
“As do mine.” He allowed himself to stroke her hair, as his mind still warred with the ten year span between them, and with the fact that they were entirely alone for the second time in their lives. Her eyes held his, as she sipped her drink, and Rose gave a happy hum as she swallowed. That delicate tongue of hers dampened her lower lip, but he did not pursue it. “You want me to kiss you, don’t you?” Rose’s blush returned, as her eyes drifted down to stare at the rich liquid in her goblet. Chuckling, James leaned forward a placed a soft peck to her nose, just one, and pulled away to ladle some chowder into a bowl. She gasped, setting her cup aside as she began to protest she serve. “No, love. Let me, as amends for my behavior both towards you, and what you overheard.”    
  
“If you will not kiss me, James.” Rose’s eye took on the mischievous sparkle he adored, which usually foretold she was about to do something to annoy him or lure him into some adventure like exploring the cave she found behind a waterfall in the Kingswood. “Will you at least hold me? We only have so long until Sarah Jane comes up.”    
  
“That I can do!” James pushed their bowls aside, leaning back into the cushions, not quite laying down, and opened his arms to her. The smile on Rose’s face was dazzling as she came to him, curling an arm around his neck and nuzzling her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, tightening them affectionately as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “For your sixteenth birthday, I shall kiss you properly.”    
  
“I’m holding you to that.” Rose quipped, drawing a deep breath and stroking the sensitive hairs at the nape of his neck.    
  
“I believe I’m the one doing the holding.” He retorted, and smiled as he rested his chin on her hair.    
  
“Which you can both stop right now!” Sarah Jane’s voice echoed affectionately through the room. He looked up, finding his former nursemaid shaking her head with a smile and throwing her arms up. Reluctantly, James released his bride to be, but not before tickling her side softly.    
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Battle  
> Graphic descriptions of death  
> Limbs get cut off  
> Blood goes everywhere  
> Some fluff at the end

“Get out of here!” Jack bellowed as he slapped Astraea’s rump. “Now!”Rose barely saw him catch a a sword on his own as Astraea plunged forward into the chaos. Battle cries pierced her ears, as blood splattered across her face. She leaned forward, letting her mare tear a path to freedom, her own heart racing.    
  
The Dalek attach had come out of nowhere, just as their caravan had cleared the edge of the Forest of Silence, which was just south of the Capitol City. They had been coming back from the spring hunting castle near Arcadia. One minute she had been harmonizing with Jack to some song, while James laughed and made his stallion, Orion, execute a peppy side step like a dance. Harold had been just behind them, piping the tune on a flute. The next moment one of the King’s Guardmens’ head had flown over her shoulder, soaking her in blood. Then the late afternoon had exploded.    
  
Rose kept her head low, letting the well trained Astraea pick the safest path out of the fight. Up ahead, a sight turned the adrenaline fire in her blood to ice. Sarah Jane’s mount, where she had been riding near King Rassilon had been cut down. She was on her back, brandishing a dagger as a Dalek soldier stood over her, his blade ready to drop into her gut. “No!” She spurred Astraea faster, yanking her own dagger from her saddle sheath that was still there from hunting. As she drew up on them, she stabbed the soldier’s neck where it was exposed between his leather armor and helm. The momentum of Astraea’s leap over Sarah Jane combined with the dagger sticking in the man’s throat pulled Rose from the saddle. She hit the ground with grunt, rolling to the side as Astraea veered back to her and stomped the soldier’s skull with a trumpeting challenge.    
  
“Rose!” Sarah Jane was scrambling to her feet, and Rose caught her wind to rush to her. “We have to get to the city!”    
  
“Get on!” Rose yelled at her, bending to retrieve her dagger. She spat as blood gushed out and up as she pulled it from the man’s neck, coating her face and riding leathers. Sarah Jane mounted swiftly, extending her a hand. Yet, as Rose reached for it, wiping her face, she saw something that made the battle noises fade and time seem to slow.    
  
King Rassilon had been unseated from Caederyn, his massive battle charger, and was being herded away from the melee by two Dalek soldiers. His and this Princes’ guards were too locked in battle to take notice, but Rose could see he was wounded. An arrow was protruding from his left shoulder, inhibiting his sword arm. Anger, fear, and panic surged through Rose, giving clarity to her senses.    
  
“Rose, come on!” Sarah Jane’s words startled Rose back to herself, and without thinking, she slapped Astraea hard on the rump, sending the mare and her passenger hurtling towards the city. Rose didn’t know much about battles, just enough one on one swordsmanship to protect herself if needs be, but still she grabbed a fallen Dalek’s sword, shoved her dagger into her waistband, and charged after the King. With a cry, she drew on the Dalek’s, pulling her arms back as if she were playing tug of war, and drove the blade into the gap where leather and mail of the upper armor separated from the lower. The sword stuck in the Dalek’s spine.    
  
The Dalek’s cry of agony was overwhelmed by Rassilon’s roar of rage, and as the wounded enemy fell, Rose saw the second Dalek bring his sword down on Rassilon’s arm, severing it just below the elbow. “No!” In her fury, Rose yanked her dagger out again and tackled the Dalek. With a howl she didn’t know she could muster, she shoved the dagger up under the soldier’s chin, and he coughed blood out onto her. Rose climbed off of him, turning to look at the King. “Your Majesty!” She yelled, scrambling on all fours towards him. He was dropping to his knees, clutching the mangled stump here his arm had been.    
  
“Get out of here child!” He roared, but Rose ignored him, seizing his heavy sword up and held it at the ready. She knew she wouldn’t do much good, but she’d damn well try. In front of her, five Dalek soldiers were fighting in a circle, and as they fell, one by one, she saw a sight that filled her with hope.    
  
James and Harold were standing back to back, hacking, blocking, slicing, and stabbing. It was an odd time for Rose to notice it, but when the brothers weren’t squabbling, they were a team to be feared. The Princes’ usually kind faces were contorted into very different types of rage.  James’ was tight, cold, completely emotionless, and growled his fury. Harold’s was red, eyes wild, lips pulled back to reveal his teeth as he screamed. They moved almost as one person, as if their minds were linked, and their swords came down in perfect synchronization to fell each of their final opponents. Then, just as perfectly timed, and raced towards her and the king.    
  
Harold took one look at Rassilon and raised a hand in a sharp whistle, and James knocked the sword from her hand. Caederyn thundered towards them, and before she could blink she was being thrown onto his back by Harold, while James ripped his belt off and cinched it tight above his father’s elbow. The king was looking pale, and Rose didn’t have time to ask what they were doing before James and Harold grabbed him and threw Rassilon over the saddle in front of him.    
  
“Get him to the city!” James bellowed, his voice like thunder, as he twirled both his and his father’s swords.    
  
“Don’t stop until you reach the Castle!” Harold cried, slapping Caederyn’s rear with a loud “Heyah!”    
  
Finally, Rose found her voice again, as she clutched the reins with one hand and clung to Rassilon’s bloody cloak as the destrier took off in a powerful run. Something slapped her right calf, but she didn’t feel pain. “Hang on, Your Majesty! I’ve got you!” She had never ridden a horse this size at a full gallop, only an easy trot a few weeks back when Astraea had lost a shoe in the Kingswood and James had taken her into his saddle with him. Caederyn was power incarnate, as he rocked under her, hooves creating a manic drumming. As she neared the city walls, soldiers were galloping out, as trumpets blared behind them. “Make way!” She cried, her voice dry and raw. “I have the king!” They parted around her, and she felt tears sting her face, tasted them wash the blood into her mouth, as they barreled through the city.    
  
It seemed to take forever, and Rassilon’s weight against her legs and stomach grew heavier and heavier. It felt like days before the portcullis came into view, and the guards on the tower blew a blast of trumpet call so loud her ears felt numb. It broke the spell of the ride, and Rose blinked. She sobbed as her eyes open, and the castle was only seconds ahead. “The King is wounded!” She screamed, finally managing to work her fingers on the reins to pull Caederyn to a halt.    
  
Two guards took hold of Rassilon, dashing him inside, and Rose sat frozen in the saddle, unable to release the reins, as a man tried to pry them free. “Lady Rose, let go.” She blinked, unable to make out his face through the burning red in her eyes. “My Lady, come to me.” She knew that voice. It was Adam, James’ squire. He hadn’t come to the spring hunt because his mother was ill. “Lady Rose, you need to dismount. I’ll catch you, just let go.”    
  
Rose released the reins, the world swimming into focus, and she reached down to Adam. He caught her, pulling her down from the saddle, until she was standing on shaky legs. “The king... is he... I tried.”    
  
“He’ll be with the healers. Come inside where it’s safe.” Adam took her hand in his, his other coming under her arms to let him lean on her. “You’re wounded.” He gasped, and Rose didn’t have time to process a response before he scooped her up and was running up the stares. “Lady Rose is wounded!”    
  
“‘S not... Adam, ‘s not my blood.” Rose was too shaken, crashing down from the battle too hard to worry about being proper. “I killed, oh my gods and goddesses I killed three men!” Her stomach turned, and she wriggled until he lowered her. Her legs, which had been numb before, buckled as dull pain throbbed up her right one. She hit the stone floor, the foyer spinning around her, and promptly emptied her stomach as she recalled the sensations of her blades sinking into the men.    
  
“I need a healer!” Adam screamed, crouching beside her and rubbing her back. “Lady, you’ve got an arrow in your right leg. Do not look.” Rose heaved another bout as she took in the blood on her hands and clothes. Wiping her mouth, she looked despite his warning, and she saw the shaft of an arrow emerging from her boots, and the light brown leather was staining red around it.    
  
“‘S nothin’.” Rose mumbled numbly, reaching down and yanking it out. “See, barely gra-“ The moment her brain connected what she had done, where they arrow had been, and that the blood soaked dangling meat the size of a her thumb was hers, the dull throb turned fiery white and shot straight up her thigh to her mind. “I shouldn’ ‘ave done that.” She choked, and then her mind went blank.    
  
“I think that’s the lot of them.” James growled in the nearing sunset light, as he stormed out of the trees to wear Harold was collapsed on the edge of the road with Orion and Thanatos, ripping his tunic into a long strip. “Let me see, Harry.” He crouched down, taking in the bruise spreading across his ribs. With the high of battle, it was easy to forget his loathing for the man. He hated him, what he was, but this was his brother, and there was still love for him. Gingerly, he pressed his fingers into the skin. Harold groaned and tensed. “Broken, but that was one hell of a kick Caederyn gave you when you slapped him. Lucky he didn’t crush your chest.”    
  
“Wasn’t thinking straight.” Harold gasped, handing him the ruined tunic, and James began wrapping it around him tightly to stabilize the breaks enough to ride. “Just wanted to get Father and your Rose to safe-gah!” His fingers dug into James’ shoulders, but he barely felt it. “You’ve got a cut on your cheek.”    
  
“Flesh wound, come on.” James scooped his arm under him, bearing the brunt of his weight. “Up you get brother.” He huffed, bending down to push his foot up into the stirrups. Once Harold was seated, he flipped the reins over Thanatos’ head, and then pulled himself up onto Orion. “This was an assassination attempt, you know.”    
  
“A failed one if Rose got Father to the healers in time.” James was still too alert for present danger to prickle at her name on Harold’s tongue. It was hard to be mad when at his brother when they had just bathed in the blood of their enemies. James hated war, hated the fighting, hated killing. He didn’t have the stomach for it, but he knew he had the skills. “We need to hurry if we want to make it back to our men before they send out search parties.” Harold took his reins in one hand and gripped his saddle with the other. “I can run, so don’t worry.” There was pained humor in his voice, and James winced as Harold’s face tightened in pain. “Just another battle to tell our grandchildren we won one day.”   
  
“Aye, if we live long enough to see them.” James squeezed Orion’s side, urging him into an easy gallop. Thanatos pulled up beside him, and for the first time in years he smiled at his brother. “We haven’t fought back to back like that since we got ambushed by bandits visiting San Kaloon. You still yell like a wet cat!”    
  
“Says the man who growls like an irritated shadesbear!” Harold laughed but then groaned in pain as he slumped in the saddle. James almost leaned over to grab his reins, but stopped when Harold righted himself. His brother waved his hand away and spit blood off to the other side. “Did... stars this hurts! Did you notice the Dalek soldiers around Father when we got to him?” He groaned the question, as their stallions kicked up dust beneath them.    
  
“I was too busy cutting the bleeding off!” James shook his head. He had only seen Rose standing there, blood soaked, eyes wild with terror and rage, guarding her King like a feral goddess. She had been growling, he remembered that, until he knocked the sword from her hands and shoved her at Harold so he could tend to Rassilon’s wound. Harold was shite at medicine. “What about them?” He coughed as the wind from the gallop burned his throat, watching his brother’s clenched posture carefully. If he fell, it would probably kill him.    
  
“One had a sword in- gah!- in his b-back.” Harold spit again, screaming wordlessly for a second in pain, before panting. “And the-gods take this pain!- other had th-the d-agger, Fuck- that Jack gave Rose to use for hunting in his gullet!” His head lolled for a minute before snapping up. Luckily the smoke from the burning carcasses and the shine of their soldiers armor weren’t far ahead. “I think she killed them.”    
  
“Damn it!” James could punch something if he were able. How had he missed that? No wonder Rose seemed locked inside of herself when they approached her. She was one day shy of sixteen, and even if she were male, she wouldn’t be considered ready for battle for another two years. The battle high was waning, as dread for Rose’s emotional wellbeing took over. He pulled Orion to a stop, at Jack. “No more soldiers for half a league west.”    
  
“None for a league east, and none in the forest, and we lost fifteen men.” Jack shook his head, as balled his fists. “You know this means we’ll be going to war.”    
  
“Well sound the damned drums.” Harold mumbled, and James shouted the alarm as he fell from the saddle. Jack caught him before he hit the ground, as soldiers hurried away from the burning corpses.    
  
“Give him to me!” James ordered as Jack released Harold to one of his guardsmen. Two soldiers lifted him to lay over the saddle. “Jack, I’m leaving you in charge. I need to take my brother to the healers.”    
  
“We could always just let him...”    
  
“I hate him, but he’s still my damned brother.” James gritted his teeth as he kicked Orion into a sprint. Once they were clear of the soldiers, he glowered down at Harold. “But keep your wicked ways up, and I’ll slit your throat myself.” He hissed at the man’s unconscious form.    
  
It didn’t take long to reach the castle, as the city streets had been cleared in case of another attack. Only guards were present, walking their assigned stations, and they snapped salutes as he barreled past. He pulled Orion to a halt, as the door guards rushed forward to retrieve Harold. “Where is the King?!”    
  
“In the healers room, your Highness!” Adam burst out of the doors, his tunic stained in blood and what looked like sick. “He is stable, as is Lady Rose.” Panic began anew at her name. Yet before he could ask Adam supplied an explanation. “She took an arrow to her calf. Pulled it out on her own before the healers could get to her and then fainted. I’ve been with them both in your stead, as has Sarah Jane.”    
  
“Tend to Orion, see that he is cooled down.” James’ vision tunneled as he sprinted up the steps, running through the castle, until he could throw open the doors to the healers’ room beside the visitor’s library. His heart stopped at the scene before him.    
  
His father was ashen, the amputated arm wrapped tightly in clean bandages. Healers were spreading poultices on other cuts on his bare torso, and pouring water into his lax jaw. Directly beside him was Rose, in nothing but her undergarments covered by a sheet. She was pale as well, and one leg was exposed to show a bandage wrapped tightly around her calf. Her bare arms had some scratches, and her blonde hair was being washed of blood by a grim looking Sarah Jane, who was seated between their beds.    
  
“How are they?” He gasped, moving forward though his legs felt leadened. His throat was tight, as he sank to his knees beside Sarah Jane, unsure of which to look at. He loved them both so much. “Sarah Jane... tell me.” He heard the guards bring Harold in, but didn’t turn.    
  
“Your father lost a lot of blood, but your tourniquet saved him.” She sighed, setting the bloody rag and bowl of water aside. James gave no care of propriety as she slid from her chair to hug him. “Rose got him here in time. She’s a strong woman.” He breathed in the smell of her hair oils, remembering how many times she had soothed him after his mother died birthing Harold. “She’ll recover. The arrow was shallow, and we were able to stitch her leg up. She woke up screaming twice to save the King, trying to get out of bed. So we had to give her a sleeping draught.”    
  
James pulled away from the hug to look between the two beds. Knowing his father was in capable hands, as the healers would spare nothing to keep him alive, he fixed his gaze on Rose. “She killed two men. The ones who attacked Father, and then she stood over him.”    
  
“Three men, James.” Sarah Jane gestured to the chair and settled onto Rose’s bed. “One of the soldiers killed my Tuuli, and he was going to kill me. Rose...” Sarah Jane’s throat caught as her tears began. “James, Rose just rushed over and stabbed him in the neck. Then she told me to get on Astraea. I thought she was coming with me, but then she slapped her into a gallop before I had the reins... I couldn’t.”    
  
“She’s going to be a magnificent queen.” James clutched her hands, then winced as he saw how gory they were. He didn’t want to taint Rose’s clean skin so he drew them back. Bile coated his tongue, as he saw the stains on the sheet from his touch, and sucked in a deep breath.    
  
“I already had your bath brought up, James. Go, clean up. I’ll sit with them.” Sarah Jane patted his leg, and James nodded numbly. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, and then stumbled from the room.    
  
Reality hit him, as he reached his chambers and caught sight of his bloody, gore covered body. War, there would be war. He would be expected to be on the front lines. “No!” He roared, letting his tears of rage flow freely as he banged the flat of his fists on the wall. His father couldn’t fight, so the army fell to him. They’d be marching by the end of the month, and gods only knew how long it would last. He would have to leave Rose behind to wait for his return. He ripped off his clothes, throwing them in the fireplace, and climbed into the scalding water. There he cursed Davros and his insanity, and he cursed the gods and goddesses for allowing this to happen.    
  
Rose groaned, her head feeling groggy and fuzzy, as she blinked into consciousness. Her throat was heavy, thick, dry, and her leg ached terribly. She wasn’t sure those things are what woke her. As she turned on the pillow. A dim oil lamp was burning on the table beside her, and as the room focused, she saw King Rassilon staring at her with equally pained eyes and heard soft snoring nearby. “Your Majesty...” she groaned. Trying to sit up, but everything felt leadened down.    
  
“Shhh.” He whispered with a shaky voice and nodded towards her legs. She looked down, gasping as she located the source of the snoring. James as seated on the floor, arms crossed on her sheets, head resting on them. “You saved me.” He coughed, wincing as he clutched his arm. “You foolish girl. You could have died.”    
  
“Wasn’t really thinking, your Grace.” She sighed, letting her head fall back onto rhe pillow. Sleep sounded welcome if not for her burning leg, which made her wince as she tried to move it. Rose bit back the cry that wanted to escape. Her whole body was sore.    
  
“That’s what your father said when he took that arrow for me.” Rassilon growled in pain as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’d promise you my heir as thanks, but you already have him.” His words were followed by a yelp, which made James jerk up and caused two healers to come scurrying in.   
  
“You’re awake!” James gasped, and Rose watched as his eyes darted between her and his father. The relief in his sleep logged voice was palpable. “Both of you.”    
  
“If what I’m about to be forced to drink is what I think.” Rassilon paused to use his shaking right hand to hold a cup to his lips. “I won’t be long. Have you recalled the council?” He gagged, coughing before he swallowed, and then sighed, squeezing his eyes shut tight.    
  
“Yes Father. They will be here by sundown. It’s just past midnight now.” James frowned, and even in her hazy state Rose knew what they meant. War was coming, the war they had been dreading and preparing for for nigh on a year had begun. She knew she shouldn’t cry, but with her aching body, the pain in her leg, and the sight of Rassilon’s pained face was threatening to break her control.    
  
“Drink, mi’lady.” A healer held a cup to her lips, and Rose could smell the foul stench of sleeping draught. She didn’t want to sleep. The more she did, the less time she had with the people she loved. “Mi’lady, please.”    
  
“Don’t make me, please. Just give me something for the pain!” Rose pleaded, looking down at James who’s eyes were oceans of grief. “James, I don’t want to sleep...”    
  
“Something for the pain, no more.” She sighed as James took the cup and set it aside. “Then I’ll take her to her room where she can rest.” The healer scurried away, and Rose clutched for his hand. “I am sorry, my love. I have no choice.” Rassilon gave a heavy sigh behind him, and they both watched as his head lolled to the side in sleep.    
  
“Drink mi’lady.” A new cup was at her lips, heady and spiced. Rose accepted it, chugging it down as it dampened her dry throat and lips. “Move her carefully, your Highness, and take the sheets. She is-“    
  
“I know, Mildred.” James shooed her away, and Rose held out her heavy arms to him. She bit back a whine as he lifted her, wrapped in the sheets, into his chest. “You were brave today. Your father will be proud.”    
  
“The King called me foolish.” Rose sighed, and she tensed as she caught sight of Harold in a bed, a healer tending to him. “Harry!”    
  
“Broken ribs and bruised liver. He’ll mend.” James’ voice didn’t hold the usual distaste when she mentioned him, and Rose wondered if battling together had breached the rift between them. “Rest or I’ll turn right back around.” Rose closed her mouth and laid her head on his shoulder. She breathed in the musky scent of his bath oils, as the elixir began to dull the pain in her body. “Good girl.”    
  
“I love you.” Rose whispered, chancing a kiss to his cheek. James breathed out a sigh, turning to press his lips to her brow but didn’t return her affection. “Do you not love me?”    
  
“So much some days I feel like my heart will burst.” James’ words were soft as he walked down the torchlit hall. “I can tell you now, as you’ve been sixteen for nearly an hour.” Rose started at the news. She had forgotten in the chaos that it was her birthday. “I love you, Rose Marion Tyler, and it will be that thought that gets me through this thrice damned war.”    
  
The utter sincerity and pain in his voice caused her cloudy thoughts to become every more scattered. James would leave, would have to go away. It could be months, or it could be years. She refused to even consider that it could be forever. Rose had never given much thought to the gods and goddesses, but she silently swore she would do her daily prayers if they brought him home to her. She had nearly drifted off again as they reached the Royal wing, but Sarah Jane was coming down the hall.    
  
“There you are James. I should have checked the healers wing. First.” Rose lifted her head to blink at her. “I just wanted to see if you were resting.” She loved that woman, as much as she loved her own mother.    
  
“I couldn’t leave my Father or my Lady.” James’ voice was so weary it made Rose’s heart ache, and tears stung her eyes. “Go to bed, Sarah Jane. I’ll take Rose up.”    
  
“She looks half asleep. I’ll come dress her for bed.” Rose offered her a thankful smile, not trusting herself to speak, as James began the trek up the stairs. She noticed then, the cut on his cheek, and she reached up to kiss it tenderly, wanting him to have no pain.    
  
To her surprise he didn’t set her down inside, and the numbness in her leg reminded her why. Sarah Jane unshuttered some oil lamps, and graciously led him into her bedchambers. There he lowered her gently to the blankets and stepped away. “Don’t leave me!” Rose was so afraid if he did, he would never return to her. “James, please.”    
  
“I’ll wait in the sitting room until your dressed, love.” Oh, that was right. She blushed, wiping her eyes as he closed the door. Then she unwrapped her sheet while Sarah Jane brought her a clean nightgown and helped her change out of Her undergarments.    
  
“Thank you, Rose. For saving my life.” Sarah Jane whispered softly as she eased the soft silk over her arms and body before moving to lace up the open back.    
  
“I love you too much to lose you.” Rose wiped her eyes as Sarah Jane sat down and hugged her tightly. “War, Sarah Jane... I don’t want-“    
  
“Shhhh, I know, but they will come home, yes? Our family. We must believe that.” Sarah Jane’s eyes were watery as they pulled apart. “It’s your birthday. I have a gift.”    
  
“Sarah Jane now isn’t the time for gifts...” Rose’s words trailed off as she stood and opened the door for James, gesturing him in.    
  
“Leave the door open and the lamps burning.” Sarah Jane pushed a confused looking James forward. “I’ll be on the sofa in here. Door open, lamps burning.” Then she disappeared from sight.    
  
Rose hazily understood her words, and it seemed James did too. He was staring at her like he was afraid she’d disappear, and then he kicked his boots off. His tunic shirt joined them on the floor, leaving only his thin undershirt. She swallowed nervously as he approached the bed, going around her to turn down the blankets. She gasped as he pulled her to him from behind, her cheeks burning as he lowered her to the pillow with a smile and covered her up. Then he went around the bed, turning the sheets down on the other side and sliding under them to roll onto his side and face her in the dim light. A half forgotten memory flickered into her mind. “It’s my birthday James.” She sniffled, still feeling overwhelmed and entirely too sad for such a moment, and rolled onto her side so their faces here w hands width apart.    
  
“I know.” James reached up, touching her cheek softly. “I promised you something, but I don’t know if now is appropriate.” Rose held her breath, searching his eyes, trying to convey how much she needed it. He smiled, just a slight pull of his lips, before sliding his other hand under her cheek, the one already on her face moving to cup the back of her head, and then he closed the gap.    
  
Rose felt the worry, the panic, and the lingering horror of everything fade away as their lips met. She brought her hands up, to hold his face, pulling him closer as her eyes fluttered shut. She had never been kissed, but she knew then that no other man could ever make her feel this safe, this loved, this whole, as James did. He broke away for a moment, but then surged in again with a contented sigh, catching her bottom lip in the softest of pulls. She mimicked it, sighing herself as his tongue grazed her top lip, and when she chanced brushing their tongues together as her tutor on wifely duties had instructed her, she felt a strange warmth fill her chest.    
  
James wanted to go on kissing Rose forever. He wanted to lock them away where the world couldn’t touch them. Her lips and tongue were sweet and spicy from the pain elixir, soft and pliant as silk, and so warm he could have lost himself in it. Yet, she was making all too needy sighs now, as their lips moved together with more familiarity, inching closer to him on the sheets. He knew she wasn’t aware of what she was doing, but gods he loved her. His body was beginning to respond, and he wasn’t going to sully this moment. “We should stop.” He whispered, pulling back and forcing his eyes open.    
  
“I don’t understand.” Rose’s whisper was breathy, and even in the faint light of the single lamp, he could see the wanton blush tinting her cheeks, neck, and ears. “Did I do something wrong?” Her eyes were dark with unmistakable want, but also all too bright and innocent.    
  
“No, my Lady.” James cupped her chin and brushed his thumb over that delicious, worried pout. “You did everything exactly right.” She still looked unconvinced, so he lowered his voice, needing to see his smile but not let an obviously eavesdropping Sarah Jane hear. “So much so, I nearly forgot this was not our wedding night.” He raised his eyebrows to imply his meaning, and sure enough, he got what he wanted. Rose smiled, all teeth and curled tongue as she giggled and pulled her hands from his face. “Now, put your back to mine and let me hold you.”    
  
Rose did as instructed, and he slid one arm under her pillow and brought the other to clasp her fingers above the blanket and against her belly. He hissed as she wriggled back closer, and then froze with a gasp. The silence was thick, as they both held perfectly still. Then Rose relaxed, turning her face to look at him. “Is the warm feeling in my chest and stomach-“    
  
“Those are questions for Sarah Jane.” James cut her off, groaning internally as he buried his face in her hair. Rose giggled, making him smile, as she turned her face away. He kissed her hair firmly, stroking her knuckles with his thumb as his eyes closed.    
  
“Thought so.” Rose whispered, making him snort at her sudden lack of lady like behavior. This woman was going to be the death of him.    
  
“Hush your saucy tongue and sleep, or Sarah Jane will have both of us by the ear.” He hissed, squeezing her back against him. Rose grew silent, and James forced himself to stay awake until her breathing grew even, and her body went limp. Then he surrendered to the seductive lure of the goddess of dreams.    
  
  


 


	6. Chapter 6

James didn’t often enjoy the weight that came with sitting on his throne, towering above the room, looking down on those who came to court. Tonight was one of the rare exceptions. His throne wasn’t high on the stairs in the throne room. It was in the ball room, with his father on his left and Harold on his right. Rose, oh his sweet, beautiful Rose was seated on a cushion beside his legs, palms resting on his knee, and her cheek pressed to her knuckles as he stroked her hair. He wanted her on his lap, in his arms, where she belonged, but that would have to wait. It would come when the rest of the soldiers parted to say their last goodbyes to their families, when the castle would grow silent with the grief that morning would bring. Tonight, though, in that moment, there was no room for anything but happiness, love, food, and drink.    
  
He caught Lord Peter’s eye across the room, as the man raised a goblet in their direction with a smile. He and his men had arrived three days before, and he hadn’t seen Rose smile so broadly since their stolen night on her birthday. She had flown down the castle steps, before he had even dismounted, and leaped into his arms. James had found her in the garden hours later, her head bowed, lips moving silently in fervent prayer. He hadn’t needed to ask why she had suddenly taken to praying, because most everyone in the castle and surrounding lands had. Such was the nature of war.    
  
This party had no formality to it, as servant and nobleman alike mingled together. Titles and stations were pointless when by noon tomorrow they would be on the road side by side. The music was a wild variety from drinking songs to ballads of love and bold retelling of wars decades past. He looked down at Rose, who was humming softly along with a fiddle ringing out a melody, and he smiled.    
  
“James.” Harold nudged his arm, snd when he looked over his brother was smiling in a mischievous way. James knew what he was going to ask, and groaned internally as Harry jumped to his feet. “Sing with me!” Rose’s head snapped up, fixing him with an eager smile.    
  
James shook his head, as some people nearby cheered. “I’m going to need at least four more beers before I do that!” He had a decent voice, but putting on a show was Harold’s forte. Rose’s disappointed look almost had him on his feet, but Harold cut in.    
  
“Then perhaps Lady Rose could sing for us! Something bright!” Rose blushed at Harold’s bold request, and she smiled as James’ eyes crinkled in a smile. “You’re to be Queen one day, Lady! It’s tradition to grace your warriors with a song!”    
  
“He isn’t wrong.” James’ voice was warm and humorous as he extended a hand to help her stand. “Mother always sang a song for Father when he went to battle.” Rose moved to her feet, knowing there was no denying them, especially not when King Rassilon raised the silver gauntlet that took the place of his missing limb.    
  
“The future queen will sing us a song!” The King’s voice rang out, and Rose drew a breath as she smiled, catching her father’s eyes. Pete blew a whistle with his fingers, as the room erupted into cheers.    
  
James settled back into his seat as he watched Rose walk down into the crowd which disbursed. The limp from her wound was gone, the month and a half since the battle had healed it well, and his heart swelled with love, as she turned to face him. “Sé mo loach mo ghile mear.” The sounds of his mother’s native tongue made him lean forward as they echoed out. She wasn’t singing a song for the soldiers. She was singing for him. “Bonnie boy, ghile mear. You will be my gallant star, oh heys to me mo ghile mear!”    
  
Rose relaxed as she saw James face light up in the happiest she had ever seen him. The King was smiling as well, as he nodded to her, and Harold eased himself into his seat and closed his eyes. “In this land, the land unfree. Oh who will fein to unchain me? Our children keyed in vain for thee, to break our chains for liberty!” Remembering she wasn’t just singing to her own gallant star, she moved around the room to smile up at Jack. “Mountains high and valleys low, the wild birds sing of Saxon’s foe.” He winked down at her as she spun to her father. “Tis you must strike the mortal blow, mo ghile mear, mo buachaill bo!”    
  
“Sé mo loach mo ghile mear!” Resuming the chorus, as instruments joined in, Rose swayed around to smile at the various soldiers who were watching and listening with rapt attention. She touched a few on the cheek, giving her blessings to their safety as she drew again to the three thrones. “So come Brother to battle come. To this fair land so weary sung!” She paused in front of Harold who was watching her sweet eyes, so like his brother’s, and changed the words quickly to fit. “Let harp and song the valley’s hum, and sound the sound of freedom’s drum!” Then she moved back to James, extending a hand. When he took it, she pulled him to his feet, drawing him into a slow turn as he held her gaze.    
  
The room faded around James, as he lost himself in Rose’s sweet voice and adoring eyes. He moved with her, taking her other hand as they turned. “Sé mo loach mo ghile mear! Bonnie boy, ghile mear! You will be my gallant star, oh heys to me mo ghile mear!” As her voice trailed off, he felt hope at her song, and he pulled her to him.    
  
Rose rested her hands on James’ arms, smiling up at him until he kissed her quite fiercely. Love so powerful she felt she might burst filled her as he lifted her up for a spin. The room was clapping, cheering, and banging mugs on tables, but she heard nothing but his lips on hers. “I love you.” He whispered, as they broke apart. “I will come back for you. I promise. Don’t ever doubt that.”    
  
“I won’t.” Rose beamed up at him. James never broke a promise to her, and she knew he never would. Smiling, she stepped back from his arms. “I have a token for you.” She released his hands to dig into the folds of her dress. “And Jack and Harold as well.” She clutched his tightly in her hand, and followed eagerly as he resumed his seat. “Here, a rose star quartz.” She held up the orb by the chain and kissed it before pressing it into his palm. “So that my love will be with you physically in battle, not just in spirit.”    
  
James took the gift, looking down at how the light reflected on the polished pink stone. It refracted back to him in the four points of the northern star, and he closed his fingers over it. “Finally a favor to go into my armor. My first, and my only one.” He kissed her fingers, swallowing to hold back the pain he felt at leaving. This small gift would have to suffice, no matter how long he was gone. “Captain Jack!” He called, as Rose hand disappeared into the folds of her dress again. “Lady Rose has need of your attention!”    
  
Rose turned as Jack grew close, and she held up another favor. This one was a golden heart shaped charm  with an intricate knot in the center, and she kissed it just as softly as she had James’. When Jack extended his palm, she had to blink back tears. “You have always been James’ First Man, Captain of his guard. I add another charge for your duties.” She pressed the necklace into his palm and closed his fingers over it. “I am entrusting you with my heart. Bring him home to  me, as well as your self.”    
  
“I swear on my honor, that I will not let him fall.” Jack bowed low, and Rose cast a questioning look to James, who nodded. She smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his brow. When he stood, she saw him blush for the first time ever, and she wondered at it. Surely he had received favors and tokens before, but then she considered it was the first time one truly held meaning he valued.    
  
Rose turned to Harold, who seemed surprised as she approached him. She had, at James insistence months ago, pulled away from their cheerful friendship, and she did miss it. Hopefully, when the war was over, and she was wedded to James, she could have it again. “Harold, we have been friends for six years, andI would not want you to fall either. I have this.” She held up a third chain, with a shield charm. “To shield you from danger.”  She placed into into his open hand, returning his smile when he lit up like the sun. “I want all of our soldiers back in one piece, but you three and my father are the ones I will light a candle for.”    
  
“I will never take it off.” James swallowed his distaste for his brother. Rose was so good, so caring, and he would grieve if anyone she loved died. Harold gave him a look, and he smiled at him to imply it was fine, and he looked away as his brother fastened the chain around his neck. “I say enough sad goodbyes. Tonight is a celebration of family and life!”   
  
“Here here!” Rose turned as her father chimed in from where he had approached the king and was talking. She smiled at him, seeing he had pulled the necklace she had given him, four stars linked together, out to sparkle in the torchlight. “To victory!” He raised his goblet, and voices echoed around the room.    
  
“My lady.” James stood up, knowing the night was growing late. He had only an hour or so before he would have to retire to be up before dawn and ready his company. “Will you walk with me?” Her fingers were already reaching for his, and he led her across the room, out to the corridor, and through the garden doors. The moon was high overhead, illuminating their path. “I wanted to ask you something, before I leave...”    
  
Rose looked up at James as they wandered deeper into the garden, obviously heading for the spring in the center. It was one of their favorite spots. “You can always ask me anything James. Honesty was established the second time we met.”    
  
“This isn’t a personal question. Well, it is, but I want to ask somewhere private.” Rose felt her cheeks flush, wondering what his request would be. She had heard enough stories from her handmaidens and other women about requests made of a woman the night before men rode out. While she didn’t think James would ever ask her to tarnish their eventual marital bed, there was a yearning in his eyes she didn’t quite understand.    
  
James pulled her to a stop on the sand of the spring, taking both of her hands as gazed down at her, speechless for a moment at the way the moon turned her skin to porcelain and her eyes to silver. He squeezed her fingers gently, wondering if he was being foolish. It had been nagging him for a week, and he may not have a chance to ask for months. Slowly, he dropped to one knee, holding her eyes as she tilted her her face down at him. “I’ve done this once already, six years ago. Yet, I’m so nervous now I can’t think.” She opened her lips as if about to speak, but he cut her off. “Will you marry me? I know you agreed before, but that was duty, arrangement. I want to know if you would marry me, even without the oaths our father’s swore?”    
  
“James, I would marry you even if we were paupers. I love you.” Rose sank down to her knees in front of him. “Yes, a million times over.” Her heart bloomed in joy as James leaned in and caught her lips in a kiss. It was deep, pleading, full of love and fear, and she looped her arms around his neck. Maybe, if she held him tight enough, time would stop, the war would end, and she’d never have to let him go. “Promise me, James, promise you’ll come back!” Finally, she let him see her terror, the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer. “I don’t think I could bear it if-“    
  
“I promise!” James cupped Roses face, his heart shattering at the utter panic draining her features of color. Her tears were diamonds in the moonlight, adding to her beauty as they cascaded down her skin. He would come back. He would marry her, and he would never let her go. “If I have to fight the goddess of death herself, and claw my way out of the underworld, I will come back!” He fell back to sit on the sand, pulling Rose into his lap, capturing her in another kiss to seal his oath. He hated war, hated fighting, but he would spare no enemy if it meant he could see her again.    
  
That was how Sarah Jane found them, with Rose sleeping in his arms as he reclined back against an oak. James was loathed to let her go, so he carried her up to her bedchambers and laid her gently on the sheets. There, under Sarah Jane’s watchful eye, he kissed her lips once more, and forced himself to march out of the room. He thought it would be the last time he’d see her until he returned, but as he mounted Orion in the mid morning sun the next day, calling the soldiers to ready. The sound of hooves from the city had him turning the stallion, as he saw a sight that made all the men cheer.    
  
A crowd of women, children, and those not marching were flooding from the gates, and Rose was in the front with the King, Astraea rearing and calling. Orion side stepped, and James clung to the reins as he let him rear up and call out his reply to his favorite mare. “Soon, I promise.” He spoke though he knew she couldn’t hear, and then he turned back to his troops. “For Gallifrey!” He roared, punching the air.    
  
“For Gallifrey!” They echoed back, and then the thunder of hooves drowned out the song that sprung up from the city.    
  
“I should be with them.” King Rassilon growled as he held Caederyn back. The charger obviously knew he belonged with the marching soldiers, and Rose could see him as eager as his rider. “A king who cannot fight for his people is no king.”    
  
“Some battles can be fought without swords, your Grace.” Rose tore her eyes away from the rolling mass of bodies, war wagons, and horses. “Such as the battles of maintaining allies and plotting how to weaken Skaro in ways other than brute strength.” Rose didn’t have it in her to smile, because her grief and anger were too much. “The quill can be as mighty as the broadsword.”    
  
“That’d be your father talking.” King Rassilon chuckled. “But I can’t hold a damned quill, and subtle politics were never my strong suit. My son’s got that trait from Idris.”    
  
A thought occurred to Rose then, one she hadn’t considered. She could help bring her men home too. She may not be a soldier, but she had already mastered the political underlyings of the kingdom and their allies, as she had often accompanied James to his council meetings. “Let me be your quill, my Liege. If I am to be Queen one day, then it is high time I started acting like a princess and not another lady of the court.”    
  
“There’s that Jackie Tyler determination and lack of subtlety.” Rose almost blushed at his words, but she didn’t. She wasn’t a child any longer. She hadn’t been on in a month and a half. “Very well, you will be my quill, and my eyes and ears in the castle. Back to the council, and to insuring a victory for our land.” She cast one last look at the tiny speck that had become James in the distance, before Rose turned Astraea to take up her beloved’s position on his father’s right hand side. “For Gallifrey.”   
  
“For Gallifrey.” Rose said firmly, and together they canted back into the city.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [James’ Token](http://rosequartzcrystal.net/natural-rose-quartz-star-light-crystal-round-shape-pendant-925-silver-12-4g.html)
> 
> [Jack’s Token](https://www.celticcopper.com/products/celtic-knot-work-heart-charm-necklace-pc02-solid-copper-pendant-necklace-on-copper-chain)
> 
> [Harold’s Token](https://m.ebay.com/itm/Mens-Fashion-Silver-Tone-Titanium-Steel-Sword-Shield-Charm-Pendant-Necklace-/112840330195?_mwBanner=1&_rdt=1)
> 
> [Rose’s Song](https://youtu.be/c-fH_q5EhKg)


	7. Chapter 7

“Bloody rain!” James growled as he tossed his helm aside and ripped off his glove. He stripped his breast plate off,  he thankful for his hulking tent. Three months they had been in Skaro, three hellish, bloody months, and now to add to the problems of fighting against Davros’ army, the rainy season had come. So far it was a light drizzle, but he knew in a few days they would be stuck in a continuous down pour for weeks.   
  
“Peter and Harold better hurry while we can still forge the river.” Jack huffed as he pulled the ten flaps closed behind him and threw his helm down next to James’. “The only good thing is that the lack of trade seems to be wearing down the Daleks.”   
  
“My Rose is a genius.” James had to smirk smugly. He had received word last month that his Father had appointed her to the council the day they marched, and she had rallied Karn, San Kaloon, and Clom to their side. Trade by land with Skaro was cut off at all sides, and the Gallifreyan and Karn navies were choking their ports to take the seaborn goods. “I’m going to kiss her senseless when I get back.”   
  
“You do that.” Jack laughed, as he flopped onto his cot to shed his grieves and bracers. “I am going to find the prettiest woman and handsomest man and locking all three of us in a room for a week.” James rolled his eyes at Jack’s crude humor. The man was an absolute tramp at times, and normally James would stamp his loose tongue with a look, but after their skirmish with yet another raiding party, he was too spent. “Unless you want to join in.” Jack flashed him a roguish grin as he lounged back onto a pillow.   
  
“Not a chance.” James crumbled up the rag he had just wiped his face clean with and threw it at him. “Not that you aren’t pretty, Jack, but I’m saving myself for marriage.” He settled into a low back chair behind his field desk, pulling his on grieves off and groaning in delight as his legs cheered with relief.   
  
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Jack gave a heavy sigh from where he was laying. “There’s this massage house in Arcadia, and this redheaded girl named Alara can do the most delicious things with her hands and tongue.”   
  
James rolled his eyes as he reached for his water skin, growling as he found it empty. “Adam!” Normally he would go fill it himself, but his bones were aching from the fight and lack of sleep patrolling the night before. He still needed to review the maps of the forest and lands ahead, so that when Peter and Harold’s men arrived they would have a head start on strategizing. The capitol of Skaro was less than a week east, but they needed to get over the Sontar River before the heavier rains swelled it. Then their three forces could skirt around to ambush from the east, south, and west, while Queen Ohila’s Karn forces bore down on them from the north.   
  
“Yes, your Highness!” Adam ducked into the tent, looking stressed and skittish. James couldn’t blame him. The raiding party two days before had nearly taken his head. “How may I serve you?” He started to bow, but James sighed.   
  
“We’re at war, no need for courtesies.” Adam righted, nodding firmly. “I need you to refill mine and Jack’s water skins, and fetch us both some dinner. Then you can retire until sunrise.” James watched as Adam looked visibly relieved. Honestly, the man was sharp as a tack when it came to anything book wise, but he didn’t have the stomach or nerve for war. He’d pass him along to the scholars when he got back, with a hefty severance package. His squire disappeared.   
  
“I don’t like how easy this last week has been.” Jack was fiddling with the token Rose had given him, which seemed his favorite among the twelve others his various sweethearts had bestowed. “Not that I doubt Rose’s or Rassilon’s tactics, but it has seemed far too easy to gain this much ground.”   
  
“Peter’s last report said they’ve encountered larger forces in the south.” James scowled as he flipped through the messages he had received a week before when his men took Skaro’s second largest city. The citizens had been so pressed for food and supplies that they had stood back and cheered as the army holding the city was slaughtered or captured. “And Harold says they were stalled by two companies of berserkers in the north west. Queen Ohila’s forces are delayed by a blasted wildfire some Daleks set, but she should be at the Capitol when we arrive.”   
  
“If I were Davros, I would have prepped the city for a seige.” Jack leaned over to tuck Rose’s token back into the inside slot of his chestplate. James had kissed and touched his own token from her as soon as the battle was over. It was tucked safely in his own armor near by, and later, he would take it out and run his fingers over it as he always did before he slept. “More than likely that’s why these forces we’ve encountered have been so weak and aiming for our supply wagons.”   
  
“Agreed.” James grabbed a pin indicating where they had left three days ago and moved it to their location. “And I’d rather not have to put the city’s innocent citizens in danger. We have open supply lines in all four directions now. We could easily wait them out.” It would extend their time by months, if not a year, but that would be a fair trade to prevent slaughter of innocents.   
  
“Peter will be in agreement, but Harold will want to charge in like the lunatic he is.” Jack pushed himself up, ruffling his hair with a yawn. Honestly the man should rest, but James knew he wouldn’t until he did, and he was going to be awake for at least another two hours. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and some soldier with a well placed sword will cut him down.”   
  
“Preferably after I severe Davros’ head from his shoulders.” James leaned his head back and dragged his hands down his face with a groan. He did live his brother, but he knew that the taste of real battle would only fuel his cruel nature. He had hoped, during their last month in Gallifrey, that he had been changing, but whispers had come and gone amongst the armies, and apparently torturing enemy soldiers had become Harold’s new hobby. While interrogation was necessary, the rumors made his skin crawl. Some things were too gruesome to even remember. “Without proof, that’s the only thing we can hope for.”   
  
“I don’t understand why none of those women would confess to you what he did.” Jack surged up from the cot, pacing. “You promised them you’d protect them from him, but none of them would admit it. We know it was him, Jaila’s son is his spitting image. Although he had her nose before hers was disfigured in a ‘falling icicle’ accident.” Jack’s words made James grimace, as he pulled a letter from Sarah Jane out and held it up.   
  
“Was, his spitting image.” He handed the letter over, already having memorized it. “Three days after we marched, he somehow wandered out the Kingswood gate and ‘fell’ in the river. Jaila hung herself in the stable loft the next day. I don’t know how Harold did it, but a one year old doesn’t get into the Kingswood alone.” James yanked the letter back as Jack growled aggressively. “Sarah Jane doesn’t understand why I asked her to keep an eye on them, and I know I should tell her.... when we get back, our investigations into him need to increase.”   
  
“You should tell Rose.” Jack’s suggestion wasn’t wrong. They would be married in a little over a year, even if he had to go back, say his vows, and return to the siege. “She’s got a way of making people open up, and the women may be more apt to turn to her and admit it. Especially now that she is the “King’s Quill.’”   
  
“Well I can’t tell her in a letter.” James crumpled up the message from Sarah Jane and tossed it into the pile of other discarded messages to burn. “Telling her will come after kissing her.” He went silent as he heard footsteps approach the tent. Adam ducked in carrying a tray with what looked like campfire smoked venison, bread, cheese, and overripe fruit. “Fantastic Adam. Go rest. That’s an order.” Adam nodded, setting the tray and water skins down on the small table before disappearing. James gestured to the food. “Eat, Jack.”   
  
“You should too.” Jack huffed, moving to the table to start cutting the meat. When the knife bit into it, James’ stomach clenched. Memories of his sword sinking into flesh, gutting an enemy, made his fists clench in disgust. He shook his head, and Jack shrugged as he tossed James his water-skin and began to eat with gusto.  
  
The water was bitter and cold, probably drawn from the nearby river, and James gagged as it hit his roiled stomach. “Just some bread and cheese I guess.” He pushed himself to his feet and made his way over to tear off hunks of both before sitting on his cot. He was exhausted, spent from riding and fighting, mentally drained from worrying about the war and everything it entailed. “Maybe I’ll take a short kip.” He mumbled through a full mouth.   
  
“Not until you eat that and finish your water.” Jack gestured at the bread in his hand. “You need your strength.” He took a swig of his own water, and James forced himself to swallow the dry bread and cheese. Jack was right, and really he should have some meat, but his stomach was still in knots. He’d eat some when he woke up at midnight for his watch. Once it was gone, he drained most of his water. He had a few swallows left, and handed it to Jack who was frowning at his own now empty one. His friend took it, downing the rest, and sighed. “I’ll shutter the lamps. Lie down before you fall over.”   
  
“You get some rest too.” James huffed, as he dragged himself to his cot and fumbled for his breast plate. He pulled Rose’s token out of the leather pocket on the inside, and fell onto his back clutching it to his chest. Closing his eyes, he ran his thumb along the smooth stone, picturing her smile, remembering her laughter, imagining her kiss. Then sleep pulled him down.   
  
Jack frowned at his best friend, shaking his head at how quickly he passed out. He swallowed, trying to rid his tongue of the bitter taste of the skirmish. Then he settled onto his own cot, reaching over to pull his favorite of all favors into his hand. It was the only one that held real meaning, because he knew Rose’s love, that of a friend and sister, was genuine. “I’m doing my best, Rosie, but James is hard to handle. Keep the candles lit, because we are coming home.” He tucked it under him, as he rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes. Sleep was an merciful enchantress.   
  
“James...” soft fingers ghosted along his skin, and James smiled as he forced his heavy laden eyes open. “James, are you awake?” Rose’s tender lips brushed his, and he smiled as he took in her glowing hair and skin.   
  
“Mmm I’m dreaming,” He closed his eyes, but then opened them again as her fingers trailed down his shirt. The oak tree from the garden swayed over head, and Rose giggled as she bit her bottom lip with a seductive smile. He lifted his hand, sighing as it trailed through her hair. “This doesn’t feel like a dream.” He pulled her down, moaning as her tongue met his and her fingers dipped under his shirt, burning stars in their touch.   
  
“It’s not a dream, love.” Rose moved her hands away, standing up. She was wearing nothing but a sheer white dress, her hair loose and free. She really shouldn’t be in the gardens dressed like that, but oh her shape was tantalizing. “Did you forget it’s our wedding night?”   
  
“Is it?” James pushed himself up, standing on wobbly legs to move towards her. “Why are we in the gardens?” He could smell the sweet, sultry aroma of the night jasmines, as a breeze stirred her hair.   
  
“You said you wanted to take me under the moon, remember?” Rose stepped away, looking back over her shoulder at him with an all too seductive and mischievous smile. “But I think we should move somewhere more secluded, where no one will see.” She beckoned him with a finger, and James followed her deeper into the hedges and flowers.   
  
“This is why I love you.” He chuckled, trying to snag her hand, but she darted away. “Oh, so it’s a game now!” James could play that, could chase her, catch her, and kiss her until her legs were weak. Then he would taste her skin, feel her truly as they should be. “Ouch!” He stumbled into a tree that had grown up, rubbing his arm as Rose giggled from up ahead. Her blonde hair whipped into a growing fog. “Rose! Not so fast!” He took after her, laughing.   
  
Jack jerked awake, as the tent flap closed. James’ bed was empty, and his sword and armor were where they had been left. Rose’s token shone in the dim light in the dirt. “James!” He surged to his feet, feeling suddenly light headed and unstable. “What the hell?” He dashed outside, finding the camp quiet in the early morning. It wasn’t drizzling anymore, but he heard James call Rose’s name from his left, and saw him running in a drunken manner into the forest. “Damn it!” He tried to give chase, finding his body felt odd. A movement on his right made him spin, and for a breath he swore he saw a Dalek soldier. Then it was gone.   
  
“Rose! Not so fast!” James’ slurred voice echoed from the trees, and Jack felt his heart begin to race. Was he sleep walking? Exhaustion could do that, he knew. He chased after him, growling at how the trees blocked out the moon. It was dark, and his legs were trying to move faster. Everything felt heavy.   
  
“James! Stop! You’re dreaming!” He called out, trying to find James in the shadows. He heard the running boots up ahead, and tried to follow him faster. “It’s not Rose! Wake up!”   
  
“It’s the prince.” A whisper, thick with the Dalek accent whispered from his right. “Kill the prince!” Jack spun, looking around. He couldn’t see anything and his head ached. A Dalek charged towards him, but vanished as Jack blinked and readied himself for an attack. Then a shout rose up from the camp, a trumpet blasting warning.   
  
“James! We’re under attack!” Jack warred with where to go, after the Prince or back to camp. He couldn’t think straight. Everything felt odd. James’ laugh up ahead made up his fuzzy mind, and he stumbled after him. The ground was climbing, and the faster he ran, the more the Daleks running after James became visible. He reached for his sword, finding it already in his hand. “James! Stop! You’re being followed!” He bellowed, tripping over a root and scrambling up the ever growing, forested hill.   
  
The sounds of battle were louder now, echoing up from below and behind him, and he heard the death screams like fire in his veins. The dark ground leveled out, and James was leaning against a tree, looking down at the dark forest floor. “You are so beautiful, Rose. You’re right, here is perfect.” He sank to his knees, and Jack blinked as Daleks began to prowl towards him, swords menacing.   
  
“No!” Jack surged forward, driving his sword into one, watching as it dissipated. They were surrounded, and he swung again and again. The sound of terrified horses and clashing swords surrounded him. He had no choice, none, as he stumbled back to James who had ripped his shirt off with a possessive growl. “James! Get down!” He dove into the prince, tackling him as a Dalek sword came down for a decapitating strike. Their bodies collided, rolling across the wet sticks, leaves, and dirt. Then empty air greeted them.   
  
“Rose! Come back!” James’ voice was a frantic scream, as he watched Rose disappear above him. He was falling, something hard and heavy clinging to him, pushing him down. Then he was engulfed in water, biting cold, painful, dragging him from the gardens into blackness.   
  
“Don’t pass out now!” Jack gagged as he clung to James’ body. He struggled against the current, aiming for the moonlit shore, but he couldn’t think. Everything felt too heavy. Rocks and sand were under him, and he collapsed beside James who coughed water and rolled onto his stomach. His mind struggled to stay clear, but the darkness was too strong. Groaning, he closed his eyes and knew no more.   
  
The smell of wet smoke and burned flesh was thick in the early morning air, despite the light rain, as Pete raised his fist to signal the troops to stop. “Prince Harold!” The thunder of hooves echoed behind him as the prince galloped over from where he had been talking to a scout. “We should have been greeted by sentries before now, and I don’t like how quiet the forest is.”   
  
“Agreed.” Harold frowned as he shifted in his saddle. “And this smoke... it isn’t right. That’s more than game cooking, and it’s too thick, too harsh. Something isn’t right. First James doesn’t meet us at the the agreed point, and now no sentries.” They both turned, dread sinking into Pete’s stomach as two more scouts galloped up. “Report!”   
  
“My Prince, my Lord. We found no evidence of the army river forging the river, but there were signs multiple horses, probably about a hundred, and possibly another hundred foot soldiers crossing south of here, and then retreating north.” One of the scouts frowned, and Pete’s fear grew stronger. “The banks on this side, between both points is covered with blood.”  
  
“James.” Harold gasped, his face going white. “James no!” Pete couldn’t stop him as the prince kicked his charger into a gallop. So he gave the order to advance and urged his own after Harold. The further they went, the more smoke choked the air became, and when he pulled his mount to a stop, he saw Harold’s mount empty. Jumping off himself, he ran forward, skidding to a stop as he took in the chaos before him.   
  
The camp was in ruins, tents trampled, wagons pushed over and looted. The smoke coming from the burned tents was nothing compared to what was in the center of camp. A mound of bodies smoldered before them. It stretched the length of the camp and was as tall as he stood. Harold was digging in the bodies, screaming his brothers name, and as the charred remains shift, Pete was horrified to see they were all headless. The burned skulls rolled free as the bodies moved. “No!” Pete rushed forward, joining Harold, dreading what they’d find.  
  
“Search for survivors!” Harold bellowed, and Pete looked up from the carnage. He saw James’ tent near the treeline, half trampled and ripped. Maybe there was something there, some sign that they had survived. He scrambled towards it, ducking in and swallowing. Ripped and blood soaked maps and papers were scattered, armor and swords abandoned. There in the mud by the one upright cot was a pink glint. He knelt down, scooping up Rose’s favor. Hope almost faded, until he heard a groan under the overturned cot, and he flipped it up to find James’ squire laying barely alive with his guts hanging loose. “ Adam.... what happened?!”   
  
“Ambush in the night.” Adam whispered, voice cracking and skin going paler. His hand opened to reveal Jack’s favor from Rose, and Pete picked it up gently. Suddenly, Harold was at his side, grabbing Adam’s tunic and looking down at him in horror. “Gave Prince and Captain dinner and water.... went to bed... woke up to hell.”   
  
“No!” Harold shook the wounded man violently, and Pete made to stop him. He didn’t get a chance to because Harold released the stained cloth. “You gave them dinner and water?” Adam nodded once, coughing blood up. “Then the Daleks attacked?!” Another nod as Adam gurgled up more blood. Pete couldn’t blame Harold for being confused, needing to know everything. He would be the same way. “Are you sure they died? Are you sure?!”   
  
“Yes...” And Adam’s chest stopped moving.   
  
Pete fell back to stare at the tokens. The entire company was gone. Five hundred men would never return home. James would never ride home to the fanfare of victory. Rose was going to be devastated. There was no time to waste, no time to grieve. He hung the favors around his neck, turning to the now Crown Prince. “Your Highness, you must take command.”   
  
Harold staggered to his feet, and Pete followed. “I will lead the attack on Davros.” The man looked half mad with vengeance and rage. Pete could sympathize. If it had been his brother... “You are to personally return to Gallifrey and inform my father of my brother’s fate. I will see our dead our burned properly and march on in the morning.”   
  
“Yes, Your Highness.” Pete bowed low, swallowing back the emotion in his throat, forcing himself to remain stable and detached. They could grieve when Davros paid for his crimes. Then he strode out of the tent.   
  
If he had looked back, he would have seen Harold pick up James’ water skin and lick the rim. He would have seen the twisted smile of victory on his face. He didn’t though. Pete had his orders, and he mounted his horse, signaling three of his men to inform them they were returning to tell Rassilon his eldest son had fallen, to watch in pain only a father knows, as his little girl’s heart was shattered into a million pieces. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Rose to the father of her quill, as she review the last message James had sent from Skaro’s second city. It is been two weeks since news had arrived, but she knew that he was probably preparing to see is the capitol and would write soon. “Your majesty, I think we should move more supplies to Air Force is holding the cities. If James sieges Davros like we expect, then we can quicken the supply lines to him that way.” She looked up at Rassilon, Who is pacing in front of the large map hung on his office wall. He had been uneasy for days, as has she and Sarah Jane. “ have you eaten lunch yet, sire?“ Her eyes flicked his untouched a meal on his desk.    
  
“I can’t eat.” Rassilon banged his gauntlet on the wall, making Rose jump at the metallic clang. “ something is wrong. No word from either of my sons for two weeks. All we have is status reports from the Lords and Queen Ohila.”    
  
Rose put her quill down, scattering sand on the wet ink for the supply order, and rolled it up. “ and they said they would be at the city by now.” She stood to pour a goblet of wine and carried it over to him. “At least drink, your Grace.”    
  
Rassilon glower down at her, but Rosa gotten used to his attitude after months of his side. She arched an eyebrow, holding the goblet between them. Finally, he huffed and took it, sipping once. “Send  the order to the supply trains.” He grumbled, and roast turned to pour wax on to the rolled up parchment. Then she turned back and held out for him to seal with his signet ring. “ why did I even bother giving you the order if you’d already written it up?” Finally he smirked, pulling his ring away. A pounding on the door made them both jerk. “ go see who it is. Tell them I’m busy.”    
  
Rose hurry to the door, opening it to find one of the Kings guard there, looking somewhere between grim and confused. “ The King is busy.” She held the order out and when he took it she added. “ tell me what news he needs and then go send this off to the supply captain.”    
  
“ Lord Peter Tyler has just arrived, he is demanding an audience with His Majesty.” The guard stepped aside to reveal her father, who looked exhausted. She smiled at him pleased and relieved to see him safe and in one piece. The blank look on his face as he gazed over her head at the king made her heart jump. Why would he be here? He was supposed to be with James sieging the city.    
  
“Send him in.” Roast step back as the king abandon his meal again. She moved to stand by his side, her heart dropping as her father entered. She wanted him to look at her to do something, say anything to ease the panic that was filling her stomach. But he wouldn’t, and he approach the king like a man going to the gallows.    
  
Then, Peter knelt before Rassilon, looking down at the floor to draw a heavy breath. “My King, I come bearing news of the worst kind.” Rose froze in place, her heart clenching as he pulled two chains over his head. The light caught pink, reflecting a star at her, and her world shattered. “ two weeks past, Prince James did not meet at the rendezvous point, when we found his camp...” Her father’s subsequent words were drowned out as the room spun around her. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. “... survived by died shortly after he told us both Prince James and Captain Harkness were killed in the ambush.”    
  
“No!” Rose’s scream was drowned out by Rassilon’s thunderous cry, as he fell to his knees. “My son! Not my son!” Her legs gave out, and she crumbled next to the men. Breathing was impossible, every inhale like a legion of horses were standing on her chest. “Harold... does my other son live?” Her father’s nod lessened some of the pressure, but only enough for her tears to burst free. She sobbed, wanting her father to look at her, willing him with her whole being to be a liar. James couldn’t be dead. He had promised to come back, and he never broke a promise.    
  
“ he took command and was marching to take the city when he ordered me to bring you the news.” Pete sounded as broken as Rose felt, and finally he looked at her. Rose couldn’t stand the truth in his eyes. She couldn’t stand being in the room. The once large office was suddenly crowded, closing in on her as the king bellowed his rage and anguish into the air with an order to kill them all.    
  
Suddenly she was on her feet, running without her knowing a destination. Shouts of grief echoed after her, as the people in the hall understood her flight and tears. None of them tried to stop her, and she blew into the family wing, tripped over her skirts as she mounted the stairs and collapsed against James‘ door. She ripped it open hoping without faith to find him standing there smiling.    
  
The suite was empty, of course, left in the same state as when James had departed. Rose blew through to the bedroom, hoping in vain that it was all the cool joke, and that James would be laying there with a book in his hands, looking up to chastise her about the impropriety of being in his room without a chaperone. It was empty, perfectly made, and Rose climbed onto the bed. She pulled a pillow to her face, drawing in a deep ragged breath. She had hoped his scent was there, but it long since faded. She needed to at least smell him again, remember with certainty that he had lived, breathed, and existed.    
  
Scrambling off the bed she stumbled to his bathing chamber to get the bottle of aftershave he used so often. Clutching it in her hand, sprinkled it on to the sheets and pillow. Then she climbed back up curling on her self, inhaling the memory of his embrace. “ you promised... you promised.” Rose squeezed her eyes shut as from somewhere far below her in the city, a massive bell begin to toll.    
  
She had never felt so alone, so empty and broken inside. Why? Why did he have to die? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. “Come back!” She finally screamed into the empty room. Her tears clogged her mouth, and her eyes burned from their salt. “ you can’t leave me alone! You promised, James! You promised!” Didn’t open her eyes at the soft footsteps on the floor, or when the mattress sank down beside her. She simply held one arm up, and when Sarah Jane climbed under it, she clung to her like a lifeline. There alone in his room, with the scent of him around them, they held each other tight. Together they grieved themselves to sleep, dreading waking to a world without his smile.    
  
~Skaro: Two weeks earlier~   
  
James gasped awake as a hand collided with his jaw. “That’s right, wake up!” The thick growling accent of a Dalek soldier made him jerk as he eyes flew open. Everything was blurry, and his head pounded like a trumpet was playing in it. Slowly, a sneering face came into focus. He was about to cry a warning, before the face slid back and he saw Jack chained across from him shaking his head. “Good, we thought the river may have addled your brain. Name and rank.”    
  
Jack was giving him a wild look, and finally James’ mind clicked the reality together. They had been captured, but how, when? He remembered eating dinner, and then nothing. “Wilfred Smithson.” James managed to croak, pleased that he had remembered the story he and Jack had corroborated should they ever be taken. The odd thing he noticed was that the soldier had no armor on, and that it was high noon. Hadn’t it just been sunset? “Spearman and healer. What’s yours?” Jack growled across from him as James took another blow to the chin.    
  
“Shut up Wilf!” Jack struggled again his binds, and James noticed he had a pretty large gash on his head. “Ignore him. He doesn’t know anything. I told you, we’re deserters!” Okay, this wasn’t part of the story. What the hell was going on? James spat blood onto the straw beneath him, yanking at the binds holding his arms by his legs. Manacles and chains, of course. It couldn’t be rope, because that would be good news. Rope was easy to escape. “We’re of no use to you. Just sell us to the slavers and be done with it.” James blanched, as he turned his throbbing head to look past the bars. He saw another wagon, much like theirs, loaded with wounded Gallifreyan soldiers, some terrified looking women, and one child.    
  
“One of those soldiers said this is the prince.” The Dalek smirked as he jumped from the wagon and slammed the door shut. “We’ll take you to the camp, and there you will talk.” A wagon cover was thrown over the bars, reducing the light but James could still see.    
  
“What the hell, Grayson?” He hissed, falling onto Jack’s fake name. He shook his manacles. “How did this happen?” James tried to recall something, anything, but all he could remember was a fuzzy moment where he swore Rose was kissing him quite thoroughly. It had to be a dream.    
  
“We were drugged.” Jack whispered back, wincing as the wagon jerked into motion. “I think it was your water, because I only had a few mouthfuls. You were completely lost in a hallucination.” For a moment his lip pulled up in a naughty smirk. “Although whatever you and hallucination Rose were about to do looked quite exciting.” James looked down, groaning as he found himself shirtless, but at least he had his pants and boots. “I hallucinated you were being attacked and try to knock you away. I remember falling into a river, and then we woke up here.”    
  
“How? How the hell were we drugged?” James winced as his stomach churned painfully. Bile rose in his throat but he swallowed it. “And why haven’t we been rescued? Surely the camp noticed we were missing.” Jack’s face fell into a grim line, as he yanked against his manacles. “What did you overhear?”   
  
“Just before you got slapped back to reality, a Dalek scout rode up and reported that the ambush on our camp was a success, no survivors, no... anything.” Jack shook his head, and James felt his stomach twist again. “I thought the sounds were my imagination when I was chasing you, the screaming, the sword clashes.... they weren’t.”    
  
James wanted to scream, to bang his head against the bars, but what good would it do? They needed to escape, to get free. How? Where even were they? Where were they going? Too many questions and no answers. Then dread hit him like a rampaging boar, and he did growl out his fury. “Pete and Harold would come to the camp.” He flailed for his pants, patting the small pocket finding it empty. “Rose’s charm. It’s at camp.”    
  
“I left mine too.” Jack looked apologetic and as full of fear as James did. “If they weren’t looted, and the find them. They’ll assume we’re dead.”    
  
“We have to get out.” James struggled against his binds, looking for something, anything to maybe pick the lock. He couldn’t even lift his wrists. “We have to get back to the army. We can’t be left for dead.” If they were, if Harold survived, won, and returned to Gallifrey, the whole kingdom and Rose would suffer.    
  
“We can’t give in to the torture.” Jack hissed, kicking at the straw. “Because if they know.... we will be dead.”    
  
“And I refuse to die. I won’t let him take her.” James slumped back, trying to conserve his energy. He’d need to rest, to prepare himself for what was coming. They had to survive, to escape, to make it back to the army before Harold could take his place.    
  
If Harold hadn’t been apart from him for months, James would have bet every coin in the vault that he had somehow drugged him. It was too sloppy, too haphazard. More than likely the whole camp had been drugged. Hallucinogenics worked best on empty stomachs, and he’d  hardly eaten in two days. Jack had been affected after all, and he had remained lucid enough to save him. He’d had a full belly.    
  
“Rest, Wilf.” Jack kicked his foot and closed his eyes. “We know what Dalek torture is like. I need your wits sharp. I have a promise to keep to a certain blonde lady.”    
  
“So do I.” James rested his head against the bars, sighing heavily as he closed his eyes. He had to get out, get back to her. The thought of her believing him dead was too much to bare. The thought of her married to Harold if he didn’t escape was too horrible. He wouldn’t consider it. He couldn’t even put that thought into existence. He had never really prayed for anything in his life, but James closed his eyes, pleading that any higher power that may exist, would help him escape or bring Harold to death. Both would be acceptable.    
  
~Gallifrey: Two weeks and 5 days after Ambush~   
  
“What are you doing?” Rose turned from her open trunk to see her father standing in her doorway. “Why are you packing, Rose?” He still looked battleworn, as he stared at her with a confused face.   
  
“I’m going home.” Rose turned back to her packing, unable to hold his eyes. The memorial ceremony that morning had been too much. Watching them place the stone engraved with James’ image and name into the mausoleum had left her heart unable to mend. The raven that had come as she stood beside the King, adorned in black, her face covered in a widow’s veil that would never rightly be hers had only solidified it all. Davros had been killed, beheaded on the steps of his castle by Harold less than two weeks after James had died.    
  
There was no place for her in the castle now. Her fiance was dead, the war was dwindling down, and the King had told her she was no longer needed as his ‘Quill’. “Go and mourn.” He had whispered, touching her head as he hung the useless favors around her neck, but Rose couldn’t cry any more.    
  
She had been weeping on and off for five days. She had secluded herself in the gods’ grotto, had lit every candle, had screamed and begged until her throat was raw and bleeding. Nothing had changed. If there were any gods and goddess, she damned them all. After all, James had said he would fight the goddess of death herself and climb up from the underworld to be with her. Death wasn’t a goddess. Death was a demon, a cruel mistress who swallowed hope and vomited pain.    
  
“This is your home now.” Rose froze as her father sat on her bed and took her hand. She had hardly spoken to him since he had arrived. It hurt too deeply to look at him, to hear the voice that had told her star had disappeared. How could he say such a thing? The castle without James was just that, a castle. It would never be her home. She would never share her husband’s bed here, would never birth children to watch play in the gardens. All she had now was Astraea and a ring that she couldn’t bear to take off. “Look at me.”    
  
“I can’t Daddy.” She finally managed to whisper, staring down at the half full trunk. She still had four more to pack, and he was keeping her from her duties. “My home is at the Manor, with you, mum, and Tony.” Tony, her brother she had never met. She didn’t even know what he looked like. Blonde, no doubt, with either hazel or amber eyes. “He’s gone, and he isn’t coming back. There’s no place for me here.”    
  
“Yes there is.” Rose tried to resist as her father pulled her to him, tugging her to sit on his knee like he had when she was a little girl. Finally she met his eyes, and there she saw pain that nearly matched her own. “I know, Rosebud. I know you feel like every star in the sky is gone, like your heart will never mend. It will, not the same as it was, but stronger, more resilient.” He rubbed her arms, and Rose couldn’t deny him anymore. She needed her father.    
  
“It hurts to breathe.” The tears came back as he held her to his chest, and Rose sobbed into his shirt. “Every time I wake up, I expect to see him waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. When he isn’t, I die inside all over again. Why does it hurt so much?”    
  
“Because love lost before its time is the most painful torment a heart can experience.” Her father kissed her head, and Rose clung to him. She was afraid to let him go, afraid if he stepped out of the room for one breath, that he would be ripped from her too. “It hurts because it was true. When I... the ride back here, I wished it weren’t true. I wished that I didn’t have to be the one to break your heart. I’m so sorry.”    
  
“Take me home, Daddy, please.” Rose buried her face in his neck, hoping, wishing he would lift her into his arms and carry her out to Astraea and lead her away from the blue eyed black haired ghost that haunted every room of the palace, that haunted her own bed.    
  
“Your home is here, Rosebud.” The resigned sigh in her father’s voice made her look up. She didn’t understand. Didn’t he understand? James was dead. She couldn’t marry a ghost. “Harold will be home in a few short months. He is heir now.” His face said she was missing something, but her mind was so tired, so ready to just run that she couldn’t piece it together. “Rose, you were promised to the heir of the Throne, not solely to James.”    
  
Understanding ripped through her mind, freezing her plea to leave in her throat. “‘M to marry Harry?” She was so stunned, her etiquette left her. She didn’t want Harry, she didn’t love him. She loved James. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I’ll ever love again.” She freed her hand to wipe her eyes, trying to make it all make sense.    
  
“You didn’t love James at first, remember.” Her father brushed her cheek with a thumb. “Gods how you hated him. You protested for years against marrying him, and then you fell in love.” That was true, so true, but how could she ever love again? James had been everything that made the last almost two years wonderful. “You’re already close, and he is an attractive man.” Rose nodded, hating that he was right. Harry was handsome, and she did care for him deeply, but she didn’t love him, not like that. “I know you’ve heard it from Sarah Jane and your handmaidens, but you will heal Rose. When you do, I know Harold will make you very happy.”    
  
“But I want James.” She knew she was whining, because her father couldn’t fix that. He couldn’t bring back the dead. “Please don’t make me do this.” Rose burned her eyes into his, begging him wordlessly to break the oath and take her home. She never wanted another man to touch her. She only wanted James’ lips to have claimed hers until she died.    
  
“Like I said when you were ten years old, Rosie love, give it time.” Her father kissed her brow and pulled her head back to him again. She went, knowing it was pointless to argue. A Tyler never broke a vow, never reneged on a promise. So, she kept her protests in her heart, and cried in her father’s arms until her eyes ran as dry.    
  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

“Hold still!” James growled, as he pressed the rag to Jack’s back, trying to staunch the bleeding from the razor thin cuts on his back. He could barely see them in the dim light of their cell, and his heavy iron manacles made it difficult to work. Ten days in them had worn blisters and cuts into his skin, but they went along with his own festering wounds and fractured ribs. “Thank you.” Jack had stopped squirming.    
  
“I heard the guards.” Jack coughed once, a wet ragged thing from days spent in their own filth and damp. “Davros is dead. Harold killed him.”    
  
James froze in his wipes, but the torture he had endured seemed to have numbed his ability to feel fear. Neither of them had broken, had admitted who they were, and Gallifrey had triumphed. That meant it was time, they had to escape before they were killed. “Tonight then.” He murmured, tossing the rag aside and holding Jack up. “It has to be tonight.”    
  
“I know.” Jack leaned against the wall, growling in pain. “Just one problem. We don’t have weapons. They do.” That did pose a major obstacle. Not to mention their hands were restrained with just enough slack to lift themselves up. “So we either go down fighting or we go down with ropes around our necks.”    
  
“I’ll take fighting.” James huffed, closing his eyes as he slouched next to Jack. He wasn’t afraid anymore, not of dying. His regret, the one that stayed burning, was the fact that Harold lived. He didn’t think he drifted off. Honestly, he had spent so much time in and out of consciousness the last ten days that he couldn’t tell the difference. The sound of a tray being slid in, and the stale scent of bread and cheese stirred him.    
  
“Eat, before the rats do!” The guard snickered, clomping away.    
  
“Come on Wilf.” Jack scooted over to the tray, and James crawled after him. They needed strength, and meals only came once a day. He picked up the mug of water first, guzzling the stagnant liquid down, before tearing the bread in half to hand to Jack. Then he tore into it. At least it wasn’t moldy this time. “If we succeed.” Jack whispered softly, letting his full mouth muffle his words. “Where do we head, to him or to her.”    
  
It had been a major debate for them. Knowing Davros had fallen, James was sure Harold would probably appoint Lord Tyler to hold it until the citizens appointed a new leader. He wouldn’t allow any of Davros’ heirs to survive. “Pete, that’s where.”    
  
“Good choice.” Jack scooted back to the wall, and James stuffed his half of his cheese in his mouth and joined him. “For now, we need to plan. What about that staircase. I reach up, grab an ankle, and you secure the sword.”    
  
“That’ll work.” James found himself yawning, his head growing fuzzy. “Damn it.” He sucked hard on his tongue, finding it suddenly thick and sluggish. “Do you feel...”    
  
“The water.” Jack slurred, shaking his head behind him. “Not again. Why is it always the water?” James shook his head, trying to keep himself alert. The dim light from the torch on the far wall grew dimmer.    
  
“This is why the king has a royal taster.” James found his words hard to form, and he couldn’t fight his body sliding sideways to the floor. The wounds on his body began to numb, and for a moment he was grateful for the lack of pain. “‘S not poison.” He managed to force out, as his eyes fell shut.    
  
“Not sure if that’s a good thing.” Jack’s voice sounded so far away, and then James’ world went dark.    
  
It felt like no time had passed, except the pain had returned. James groaned as he lifted his chin from his chest. Jack was stirring across from him, and as his vision cleared he saw they were once again in the damned prisoner wagon. Light was trickling through the flaps, but they weren’t alone this time. A bald woman in leather armor was crouched at the door with a sword.    
  
“Keep your mouths shut unless you want to meet the hangman.” She hissed, glaring over her shoulder at them. James half wondered if this was some rescue until she kicked Jack, who was beginning to moan. There were some voices, and then the wagon began moving. “Good, we are out of the camp.” She stalked between them, sheathing her sword to check the manacles on his wrists. James was thoroughly confused, but he kept silent. Then she checked Jack’s.    
  
When she settled cross legged by the door, he finally whispered. “Who are you and what the hell is going on?” This earned him a punch to the gut as she lunged forward. “Okay, not a rescue.” He groaned, as he tried to regain his breath.    
  
“Haha, rescue. You’re funny.” She smirked at him, pulling out a whet stone and going to work edging a knife she pulled from a boot. “All prisoners to be released, they say. Terms of the surrender they say.” She spat on the straw, as Jack finally opened his eyes. “No, my husband and I. We lost everything thanks to the damned war. You two are strong. Many ships will pay well for men like you.”   
  
“I’m not sure impressment is better than prison.” Jack groaned, and James shot him a look. This could work. Once they got to a port, they could find some way to escape. Deck hands couldn’t work shackled. They would be able to dive overboard when they reached an allied country, or when they reached the Gallifreyan shipping lanes. Finally, something good seemed to be coming from this. If they played their cards right, they could be home before winter.    
  
“All depends on who offers the money.” She chuckled darkly. Jack made a sarcastic sounding noise, then winced. James could tell his injuries were bothering him, and his anger began afresh. “If you’re lucky, you may be freed in five or six years.”    
  
James caught Jack’s eye, trying to convey he had a plan. His friend arched an eyebrow, then fell into the reserved quiet they had agreed on when around the enemy. James tried not to smile, as hope began to flicker inside of him for the first time in days. He could play the good slave roll, could bide his time until they were ready to act. By Yule he’d be at his father’s side, with Rose tucked against him. He’d be home, and nothing was going to stand in his way.    
  
Rose paced the hall foyer, her skirts swishing around her feet as she fidgeted with her hands. Thankfully, everyone else seemed as worried as she was. Harold’s ship had reached the port five days ago, nearly a month after conquering Davros, bearing news that had broken through her heartbreak and filled her with worry. They had been attacked in the northern most port of Skaro, a botched attempt to assassinate him, but he had sustained a blow to the head and a knife cut to his thigh.   
  
The morning the ship had docked, he had fallen into a deep, fever sleep that smelling salts nor buckets of water would rouse him from. They were racing him home, accompanied by the best healers they could find, so that he could be treated by the ones at the castle. The carriage should have arrived last night, but they had not. Then, an hour ago, the watch tower had sighted their dust in the distance.    
  
Rose had already lost her heart and her friend, she couldn’t lose Harold too. She didn’t love him the way she loved James, but she would still be devastated if he was taken too. A trumpet blasted outside, and she jerked to a stop as King Rassilon flew to the doors. “Where is he?!” The heavy wooden doors slammed open, as three soldiers rushed in carrying a stretcher. “What is his condition?!”    
  
“The fever peaked last night.” A healer rushed in after them, and Rose followed as they hurried him up the stairs. She could barely see his face, but it looked gaunt, ashen except his cheeks, and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “He began seizing, but the infection from both wounds seems to have stopped spreading.”    
  
“Will he live?!” Rassilon’s voice was a tumult of rage and panic, and Rose couldn’t blame him. The man had already lost one son, and to lose his other would be unimaginable. “Will he live?” She watched as they shifted Harold to a bed, and her stomach rolled as she got her first true look at him. A gash in front of his left ear was sutured, but angry and red, and his thigh was swollen as they pulled the puss covered bandage off to begin wiping the sutures there with water.    
  
“Yes, if we can get the infection to leave and the fever to break.” The healer sighed as he began scrubbing his hands in scalding water, and was immediately attended by assistants who began pulling knives, needles, and more bandages from boiling pots of foul smelling liquid. It was antiseptic, she knew. Soft hands closed on her waist from behind, and she stepped aside to wrap her arms around Sarah Jane.    
  
“He can’t die.” Rose whispered as she watched them tear the sutures open to begin cutting out in the infection on his thigh. She almost vomited, as the stench of the decaying flesh filled the air, but she swallowed it back. “He’s my friend. We can’t lose him too.”    
  
“I know, Rose. Just, let the healers work.” Sarah Jane stroked her back, as they moved to observe from the far wall. Rassilon was pacing, his face contorted in dread. “When Prince Corsair was seventeen, he was wounded by a boar out hunting. It grew infected worse than this, and he recovered.” Rose knew the story of the king’s younger brother, the one who had fallen during the same battle her father had saved Rassilon’s life in. Still, she couldn’t stop the worry. Worry beat the numb detachment that had filled her heart after her Father had returned to Skaro. “Look there, around his neck.”    
  
Rose lifted her chin, trying to see what Sarah Jane was speaking of, and tears burned her eyes as she saw the shield token resting against his chest. “He still has it, my necklace...” she gasped, and a guard nearby heaved a heavy sigh. It was one of Harold’s princes’ guard, but she couldn’t remember his name.   
  
“Never took it off, my Lady.” The man gave a grim smile, a Harold began thrashing on the bed. Rose swallowed hard, curling into Sarah Jane as the woman gasped in horror. “Said it was his greatest protection.”    
  
“Some protection.” Rose swallowed a retch as the crowd around the bed parted to allow the healers to dispose of the filthy, yellowish green, stained sheets. “Feels like a curse, everyone I love is being stolen away.” Harold’s breathing was ragged, as an assistant began spooning tonic mixed with broth into his mouth. Clean bandages covered his thigh and head now, as Rassilon crouched beside his bed, taking his hand, and whispering.    
  
“We should go to the grotto and light a candle.” Sarah Jane whispered to her, but Rose shook her head. Praying was for the naive. “Rose, you can’t lose faith. All we have now is to hope this fever breaks. There’s nothing to be done here.”   
  
“I’m not leaving until Harry wakes up.” Rose released her, moving to take a wet rag from the healer’s assistant wiping Harold’s brow and kneel across from Rassilon. She didn’t get to James and Jack, and if Harold didn’t wake, she was going to be there until he was taken too. Some part of her wished she could still cry, but her tears had abandoned her weeks ago.    
  
“I must meet with the council.” Rassilon muttered, and Rose looked up to find him staring down at his son with eyes as empty as she felt. “Will you stay with him, until I return?”    
  
“Yes, your Grace.” Rose looked back down at Harold’s lax face. His once smiling lips were blistered and cracked, and his fever sheen was returning. She pressed the cool rag to his face, wiping it softly. “I’ll keep watch until he wakes up, or he...” She wouldn’t speak the words. She couldn’t even think them. So she accepted a bowl of fresh water from a healer and set it on the table as they brought her a chair. Then she sat, rewetting the cloth to dampen his blistered lips.    
  
The room emptied out, and Rose knew her lunch would be brought in soon. It felt good to be alone for a while, without the ever present fussing of handmaidens or Sarah Jane insisting she go outside. “You have to wake up, Harry.” She whispered, feeling all too much like the world was cold despite the peak of summer. “We need you. Sarah Jane, your dad, the people.” Another swipe of cool water to his brow. “And me too. I’m sorry I was so distant before you left. You were my first friend here, and now...” now he was to be her husband, but the loss of James stabbed through her as fresh as the day she had heard. “Please wake up. You can’t come home just to die. Please fight this. You fought all the way across Skaro. This is just an infection. You can win.”    
  
Rose closed her eyes, recalling the memories of happier times: the first time she knew Harold would be a friend, his handkerchief extended into her hidey hole, how he and James would constantly rib each other over dinner, the brothers’ impromptu half hearted sword fights in the gardens, always resulting in Harry on his back laughing while James kicked dirt on his face with a triumphant smirk.    
  
James, oh she missed him so much. Rose swallowed hard, fighting against the tightness in her chest as she rested her hand on the thin sheet covering Harold’s chest. It was already sticky with sweat, humid and blazing against her palm. She pulled it down, opening her eyes to take in Harry’s slowly thinning form, which was now beginning to show his week of surviving on medicined broth and water. She wet the cloth again, this time trailing it down his neck, breathing in a sharp gasp as goosebumps prickled in its wake.    
  
“I need more water! More cloths too!” She called, knowing it would bring a healer or assistant running. Rose could do this, could push aside her own pain to ease his. It would be a welcome relief to not think about it, to not be reminded of what she had lost. She would not break propriety though, tucking the sheet around his waist, and with more supplies, Rose began to wash away the lingering filth of Skaro and everything Davros had stolen from her friend’s skin.    
  
James shouted in protest as the burly sailor closed a heavy iron collar around his neck and yanked a sack over his head. “No! Let us go!” He tried to fight, but two days of traveling with no food and only sparse water had him weak. He had never felt so spent, so powerless. Jack was faring no better, and James was certain his wounds were infected. It was confirmed as the sailors yanking them out barked for the ships medic to be brought to the hold to treat the ‘new blood’.    
  
He hadn’t been worried all that much, until he had seen the tattoos the sailors bore on their faces. They weren’t traders, but a group of smugglers, the Gelth, known for skirting ports and landing in obscure regions to transfer their goods. They had evaded the Gallifreyan navy for decades.    
  
“Toss them in the hold.” A voice snarled with authority. “Give them food and fresh water. Keep em chained up until we’re past the strait.” Hand shoved against him, and he staggered forward. This was going all wrong again, pear shaped in the worst way. He finally felt panic foe the first time in weeks, and it crashed through him with such intensity that his head spun. Even if the ship made port under a false name, slaves would be hidden away below deck long before the cleared the harbor lines.    
  
“Wilf, you with me.” Jack groaned, voice muffled by their sack hoods, as James was shoved down some stairs where more hands grabbed him, and he felt a chain being latched to his collar. “Brother, answer me!”    
  
“I’m here Grayson.” James called back, and then, to his surprise, his manacles clicked and his hands were finally freed. He twisted them, reaching up as he heard Jack’s being released, and yanked his hood off. They were in some sort of storage hold, surrounded by crates and boxes. Reaching back, he found the chain on his collar was leading to the wall, secured by two locks. Jack tossed his own hood aside, as a boy of about fourteen came scurrying in with a tray loaded with chicken, fresh fruit, and a jug of water.    
  
“You eat and drink it first!” Jack growled, as the boy set the tray down in front of them, but staying out of reach. “I’m not falling for any more drugs. Not happening!” James’ stomach growled, and he watched as the boy silently took a drink and then a bite of the food. “Good lad. What’s your name?” The boy’s eyes went wide, and he scurried out, closing the door at the top of the steps behind him. The thud of the lock echoed around them. “Fucking Gelth.”    
  
“Exactly. This wasn’t part of the plan.” James flopped down, grabbing the tray, and taking a long drink of water. It was fresh, cool, pure on his chapped tongue and lips. “Here, you need to drink, and let me take a look at your back.” He passed Jack the jug, sighing as he felt the water hit his stomach.   
  
“Thanks.” Jack sat with him, turning as much as the chain would allow, before drinking. James was relieved to see that the wounds weren’t too bad, some had infection, but the rest were healing well. His friend would have scars, but as long as the ship healer knew his stuff, they would be fine. “So what’s the plan now, huh?”    
  
“Eat, gather our strength.” James reached for some of the chicken, as he set his mind to focus trying to think of how to escape this new prison. “And then think of something incredibly clever.” He ripped his teeth into the skin, groaning at the smoky juices on his tongue.    
  
“Your plan is to make a plan?” Jack laughed, and the sound was so strange after weeks without hearing it. James had forgotten what laughing was. Rose’s laugh was contagious, all flashing teeth and tossed back hair. Oh Rose, he had to get back before her eighteenth name day. “I can work with that.”    
  
“I’m glad your satisfied.” James took the jug back for more water, as the door opened again and a woman descended the stairs. She was clad in colored leather, with skin the color of ebony wood and carried a massive bag over her shoulder. She reached them, setting the bag down, and cocking her head with a critical look.    
  
“Well hello beautiful.” Jack practically purred, as he popped a grape into his mouth. “Are you here to patch me up?”    
  
“Depends on you.” The woman smirked, kneeling to open her bag, and James sent a silent thanks as he saw it was stuffed full of medicinal herbs, jars, and bandages. “Will you be a good boy and keep your hands to yourself, of do I need to slip dreamshade into your water later?”    
  
“He’ll be good.” James shot Jack a look, as he grabbed some fruit. One thing he had learned being trained in battle, always be nice to the healers. This woman, while a bit cocky, had no cruelness in her posture. “I’m Wilf. He’s Grayson. What’s your name?”    
  
“Martha Jones.” The woman replied, setting out some small bowls and pouring brown liquid onto the bandages. “I’m probably the only friend you’re gonna have here, all right? At least until my debt is worked off in a year.” She looked up at them, and James had a spark of an idea as he saw the flash of anger in her eyes. What was better than a two man escape plan? Two men and one smart woman who knew her way around a ship. “Now, sit down, keep quiet, and let me see if I can fix your wounds.”    
  
“You’re Gallifreyan.” James had been so used to the Dalek accents that it had taken him a moment to pick up on her real one. He blamed the lack of nutrition and borderline dehydration. “Aren’t you?!” Martha’s hands froze, as she swallowed audibly, her eyes darting back down to her work. “Look at me!” He hissed. “Now!”    
  
“Yes, Your Highness.” Martha breathed, and Jack made a choking noise on his chicken as she looked up again, the anger turning to deep sadness. James could see it there, the pain that said she wanted to help more but would only keep his secret. “But please, I can’t set you free, not until my servitude is up. They’ll kill my mother and take my sister.”    
  
“How long have you been on board?” Jack asked before James could, and Martha moved towards them now. James waved her to Jack. He knew she was afraid she had angered him, denying his chance at being freed to save her family. He wasn’t angry, because he understood how afraid she must be. He was in fear for all of Gallifrey, for Rose, if Harold took the throne.    
  
“A year. My father owed debts to the Gelth, when he couldn’t pay they killed him and offered me a spot as a healer on the ship to pay it off.” Martha looked over at him as she began to clean Jack’s back, and James held her dark eyes. “I’m sorry, but I promise I will do my best to let the captain give me leave to shore at the next port to alert the king. He only lets me off every few months, and today was one.” She whispered, looking all too much like she doubted she could.    
  
“Thank you, Martha.” James felt somewhat more sure of things now. They had an ally, one who could possibly get help if not give it. It was a start, and a start was all he needed.    
  


 


	10. Chapter 10

Rose had only left Harold’s side long enough to bathe, change into a dress that was more suited for bed watch, ate a small dinner, and resumed her place. It had been a few hours past sunset, when Harold’s fever had lessened. It hadn’t broken completely, but he hadn’t had a seizing fit since mid afternoon. The nurses told her he had stirred for a few moments, only long enough to mutter incoherently about his leg and fire, before going unconscious again. So, after pouring more of the medicinal chicken broth into his lips, wiping his face which had regained some color, she took to holding his dry, calloused, limp hand. The candle on the side table had been the only light, as she had talked to him.    
  
The healers said that words of any sort, particularly songs or anything soothing, could trickle through to the mind. So Rose had talked, about everything from the new  merchant that had opened in the city to the new kittens in the stable loft. She had recited poetry, and even managed to find her voice to sing a song. Though, as she continued to watch, sipping the now air warmed wine, she had begun to grow tired. She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep, but the candle was still burning. For a moment, she was confused about what had woken her, until she heard a raspy, dry voice, and felt a single finger touch her cheek before falling away.    
  
“Rose.” She jerked up, heart pounding wildly as she blinked down at Harold. His face was twisted in pain, and his eyes opened for a moment before fluttering shut. “How... you... here...” His head lolled to the side, and Rose quickly caught his cheek. His uneven breaths broke across her palm, as his eyes struggled open again. Had they always been so blue, so like his brother’s?    
  
“You’re home, Harry.” Rose was awake now, widely so, as she fumbled for the cup of water and eased a hand under his head to lift it. “Drink, slowly, just a little.” His lashes drooped again, but he took a few hesitant sips before, gasping once and then taking a long draw. “Easy, shhh.” Rose finally felt something inside of her, the smallest spark of hope shimmering to life. “You’ve had a fever, Harry, a bad one.” He coughed a bit on the water, making her pull the cup away. “Look at me, can you?”    
  
“I dreamed you were singing.” Harry mumbled, as he drew a ragged breath and coughed again. Rose grabbed a cloth, catching the sputum on it before lowering his head gently. His words eased her fears aside, because she knew if her song had woven into his dreams, then he was out of the danger of death. “I hurt...”    
  
“I have something.” The nurse had left a thick syrup that would ease his pain, and Rose quickly mixed it with the rest of her wine, as instructed, and held the goblet to his lips. “Drink it all, slowly.” She lifted Harold’s head again, holding the goblet to his lips as he drank. It was slow going, as he could barely take a mouthful at a time, but when the goblet was empty, she gently lowered him again.    
  
Things were silent, with only his labored breathing as he blinked and clenched his body under the sheets. Rose knew she should wake the King, but when she was about to tell him, he moved his hand sluggishly to cover hers. “Missed your smile.” He rasped out, those glazed eyes finding her face. “Don’t leave.” He looked so weak, so pale and fragile that she couldn’t help but squeeze his fingers.    
  
“I need to tell the guard to wake your Father. I’ll be right back.” She released his hand, moving to stand and cross to the door. Pulling it open, she looked up at the guard who had turned to her. “Prince Harold is awake. Send for the king.”    
  
“Yes, my Lady.” The guard hurried away, and Rose returned to her dutiful post.    
  
“I’m still here.” She whispered, reaching for the rag on the bowl of water to wipe his face again. The sweat had returned, but he wasn’t feverish anymore. This was from pain, and she managed a weak smile as his eyes parted with her touch. “Hello again.”    
  
“Pain is easing.” His voice was still weak, but no longer strained. He turned his face from the cloth, and Rose set it aside to get him more water. “Head feels funny.” The confusion that took over his features was so unlike him that Rose had to smile weakly. It felt strange on her face, after months of finding no joy. Harold would live. She wouldn’t lose her friend. “There it is.” His lips pulled up weakly before he was racked with another coughing fit.    
  
“Stop talking and rest.” Rose smoothed the sheets, and then turned his head softly by his chin to check the bandages on the side of his head. It would be far too improper to check the one on his leg, as she knew he had nothing underneath the covers. The balms and poultices had stained the material, but thankfully the bleeding seemed to have stopped. She touched it ever so lightly, trying to feel if the new sutures were seeping or swelling again. Harold wince, a sharp intake making her hand jerk back. “‘M sorry. I didn’ mean to hurt you.”    
  
“Didn’t.” Harold groaned, his head turning more to give her better access. Rose swallowed as his eyes half closed, a trembling exhale escaping his lips. “Been so long since soft touches.”    
  
The door blew open, and Rose squeaked, covering her eyes as King Rassilon flew in clad in nothing but sleep pants. She backed away, giving father and son privacy, and made her way to the door that led to where a healer was sleeping. She roused him, before perching on an empty cot. She was exhausted and ready to return to her bed to sleep, but Harold had asked her to stay. Looking down at her hands, she didn’t watch as the healer peeled the sheets back to tend the wound.    
  
Harold’s gasps of pain and coughs made her wince, as she fisted her skirts in her hands. It pained her to see him in such a state, and that pain only increased as she thought of how James must have felt, the suffering he must have endured just before his death. She hadn’t pictured it before, and the image in her mind destroyed the dam she had built inside of her, tears flowing down her cheeks in silent sobs.    
  
“Go to bed Rose.” King Rassilon’s voice was firm, but quiet from Harold’s side. She looked up, wiping her cheeks as both sets of crystalline eyes focused on her. “Harold will be fine now.” She nodded wordlessly, staggering to her feet. He was right. She needed rest, and tears for a lost love had no place by the bedside of her husband to be.    
  
“Stay, please.” Harold’s voice was a croaked whisper as he lifted his hand, brows furrowed in sadness and regret. Why did he feel regret? He did nothing wrong. “Come here.” She stumbled to him, resuming her seat as his medicine and pain addled eyes searched hers, a frown pulling at his face. “I miss him too. I wish it had been me.”    
  
“I didn’t want it to be either of you.” She sighed, taking his fingers in hers though it brought no comfort. She didn’t think anything would ever soothe the aching abyss in her soul. “You should rest, Harry. Don’t worry about me while you are in such a state.”    
  
“I’ll rest better knowing if I wake, I’ll see you and not a tent roof on a battlefield.” Harold swallowed visibly as Rose choked back another sob. “Please stay until morning.” Rassilon snapped at the healer who immediately rushed away to get fresh sheets and blankets for rhe bed beside Harold’s, and Rose leaned down to pull her shoes off.    
  
“I will let you rest, son.” Rassilon shook his head, placing his one hand on Harold’s shoulder. “Your future queen is watch enough.” The words hit Rose like a punch from a tantruming child, and for the first time since she took James’ arm in the royal wing, the words brought her no pleasure, no anxiety, no fear. They just stung her heart, trailing numbness behind their burn.    
  
“My...” Harold frowned so deeply, Rose worried the medicine was wearing off. She couldn’t look at him like that, couldn’t watch as his addled mind drew the conclusion of why she was dutifully at his side. “Oh, right.” His thumb ghosted over her knuckles as Rassilon and the healer left them to silence. “I’m sorry, Rose.”    
  
“It’s not your fault.” She whispered back, forcing her tears aside as she released his hand to pull his sheets up tighter. Then, remembering he was the ailing one, and not her, she stood, leaned down, and kissed his brow. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”    
  
“Promise?” One finger brushed her arm, as the word came out a bit uncertain. Rose forced a smile as she nodded, pulling away to climb onto her bed for the evening and pull the sheets up. “Sweet dreams, my Lady.” His voice was thick with exhaustion as his head leaned to the side.    
  
“Sweet dreams, my Prince.” Rose whispered back, before hiding her face in the pillow and dreading her dreams. James would be there, as he always was, and it always made waking up torture of the worst kind.    
  
James tossed the bucket of mop water overboard, huffing as the salty wind whipped around him. After a week at sea, he was recovering remarkably well physically. Martha was a remarkably talented healer, and had treated their torture wounds with the utmost care. She had kept their identities a secret, as promised, and he and Jack made care not to spend too much time alone with her.    
  
The stars sparkled overhead, and he looked up to admire how clear they looked, dusting the sky with a milky sheen. He wondered if Rose was awake, if she was staring out of her window. He could almost picture her, a book in her lap, breath fogging the window pane as she let her mind wander the heavens. It pained him as he realized she was probably adorned in black, not smiling as she stared up, but frowning.    
  
That pain was only increased as he knew by now Harold was probably returning to the castle. Rose would do her duty, just as she had six and a half years ago, and accept Harold’s request to court her. James had to make it back, couldn’t let her reach her eighteenth name day with everyone thinking him dead. The rage at imagining Harold’s fingers and lips on her skin, doing gods knew what to her, made him growl, as he knotted the rope back onto the bucket handle, and tossed it into the waves to refill it. The motion made his collar press into his clavicles, rubbing more bruises onto the already chaffed skin.    
  
“Oi, Wilfred!” The captain, a graying man named Jacques, called from behind him. James turned, swallowing his fury as the man swaggered over, his green eyes heavy and critical. “My first mate tells me you started battening down gear last night an before that storm kicked up. How’d you know it was comin’?” He crossed his arms, one eyebrow arching high. “Thought you was a smith’s son.”    
  
“I am.” James had grown all to accustomed to the lie, as he had worked to build some sort of rapport with the crew. Rule one of survival, deceive thine enemy. “My uncle was a sailor, took me in when my parents passed away. Worked his fishing crew until I was inscripted as a swordssmith.” It wasn’t true of course, but James had been taught by the best captains in the Gallifreyan navy growing up, and had spent plenty of time learning side by side with the crewmen. “Could smell it, feel how the air grew too thick and heavy.”    
  
“Right.” Jacques smirked, shaking his head for a moment. “Crew’s done eating, drag that bucket back in go get your scraps.” With that he crossed the deck to lock himself in his cabin.    
  
The captain was a strange man, sometimes as likely to land a blow as he was to smile. The crew held a healthy fear of him, but James saw him as a means to an end. He needed to get on the man’s good side, prove he was far more valuable than a common slave. That’s what Martha had done, to gain permission to go into ports under close supervision. He hauled the bucket back up, tying it to the rail and hurried down to the galley.    
  
“Food.” He huffed, flopping onto a chair beside Jack, who was ripping fish off the bone with his teeth. The captain called their food scraps, as it was the left overs from the crew, but there was always enough to sate their hunger, if not totally fill their belly. Jack held up a wooden mug, grinning, and James grabbed his. Ahhh, ale. That was a first, and the twinkle in Jack’s eye told him exactly how he had managed to coax that to be left behind. “You’re horrible.” He snorted, grabbing some fish himself.    
  
“A man does what he must.” Jack chuckled. Honestly, James had always been amazed at how his friend had the ability to charm just about anyone out of their skirts or pants. “It’s not the best, but it’s good for the soul.”    
  
“What’s good for the soul would be to get back home.” James dug into his own food. The fish was seasoned only with salt, but it was still good. Working on a ship was back breaking work, but it was also beneficial. It was rebuilding the muscle being starved, imprisoned, and beaten for two weeks had destroyed. It also meant, when they were ready to escape, they would be strong enough to fight. “Think Jacques is warming up to me after preplanning for that storm.”    
  
“He was impressed when he came down to refill his wineskin.” Jack mused, snagging a half eaten orange fruit to finish peeling. “Said he may move you to the deck permanently.” James wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Currently they were mostly doing tasks like mending the mast ropes or cleaning the ship. They were kept in the hold during the day, then brought out just before sunset to start their tasks. Then under the careful eye of the scarce night crew, they scaled the rigging with lanterns to check and tighten or repair anything.    
  
“Seen Martha?” James wanted to change the subject. Their new friend helped some on the ship, in addition to tending injuries, like helping catch fish, bringing water up to the crew, or putting her thin, lithe body to use scaling out to the very ends of the sails to secure loose rigging. Once, three days past, Jacques had been in a particularly good mood and had her perch on the rail beside the ship’s wheel to sing just before sunset. She had a pleasant voice, and had serenaded them all with a Gallifreyan farewell song called When You Go.    
  
“Came up to get some tea and said she was turning in for the night.” Jack shrugged. “I kept watch on the hold door to make sure nobody followed her.” He nodded down the hall to the door leading to the stairs. Martha had a small room off of the hold, which had once been used as a sort of brig. He and Jack had made it a point to keep an eye on her, even though she swore none of the crewmen touched her. James had a sneaky suspicion if they did, then they may end up getting something slipped in their water.    
  
“She have an update on getting permission to go ashore when we make port?” James refilled his mug with water, grabbing a bit of fruit himself. He hadn’t seen her talking to the captain often, so he wasn’t sure how it was going. They were counting on her to get a message out to Pete Tyler. That had confused her, but She hadn’t asked.    
  
“Nothing yet, but she’ll tell us when she does.” Jack leaned back in his seat sighing heavily. “Have you figured out what to send as proof? We don’t have anything.” He arched an eyebrow as he gestured at their tattered handed down clothes.    
  
“Yes, I’m going to have her send the the insult I gave to Rose when she was ten. Only our families know it, so it will prove it’s me.” James hated recalling that memory, as it was the first time he had ever made her cry. She had probably cried a lot lately, if he knew her, alone, where nobody would see her break. “I miss her so much.”    
  
“I’m completely sure the moment she sees you, they’ll hear her scream in excitement all the way to Torchwood in Karn.” Jack chuckled, pushing himself to his feet. “I need to wash these, get back to mopping.” He snagged the empty mugs and plate.    
  
James pushed himself away to head back up and finish. Standing under the stars again, he heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m coming home, Rose. I promise.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Rose shivered in the cool night air, as she opened the door of the tower to step out onto the observation balcony. She should have been in bed, sleeping, as it was nearing midnight, but she couldn’t. The events of the day had been too much, had left her feeling confused and emotional. It had been a month since Harold’s return, and their dinner to celebrate the end of the war had begun with him presenting her to the King and stating his intent to court and marry her.    
  
She had allowed their friendship to rekindle, as much of her time was spent with him. Rose had taken to helping him walk in the gardens, massaging his wounded leg whenever it grew weak, and basically doing all the things a lady would do for her intended. Harold had healed remarkably well, and he credited it to her compassion and determination to not let him become lax in his recovery. Being around him so much was the cause of her confusion. For the first few weeks, he had respected her mourning, but the past few days he had held her gaze just a bit longer than usual, smiled at her in a way that hinted more than friendship, and at dinner tonight he had laced his fingers with hers on the table. Rose hadn’t pulled her hand away, because it hand felt pleasant. It hadn’t given her that skip she always got when James touched her, but she had felt it all the same, Harold’s quiet request to heal together.   
  
Now that their engagement was official, it was time for her public grieving to end. She and Sarah Jane had folded up her black veils and ribbons, hung the black dresses in the recesses of her closet, and had lit one final candle on her window sill. Still, Rose couldn’t really let go, couldn’t say goodbye. She needed to be near her James one last time, gaze up at the stars from where they had stood so many nights and marveled at the beauty of the heavens. So she had taken her book of poetry and songs, lit a lantern from a twig in the fireplace, and wound up the stairs to put the words in her heart onto paper.    
  
She settled down, with her back to the wall, tucking the skirts of her night dress around her, and dipped her quill into the ink pot. Slowly, quietly, she began saying goodbye. Rose wasn’t aware of time passing, only the breeze warning of coming autumn and the sound of her quill on paper. She let the words flow into a song of remembrance, of mourning, of a ghost that would forever be there when the night grew late. She didn’t hear the sound of feet on the stairs or the breathing of someone leaning against the doorframe to her left. Rose was oblivious to everything until she set her quill aside and finally let out a trembling breath. That’s when a cloak draped over her shoulder, and she looked up to find Harold holding a second lantern, watching her with a mournful gaze. “You should have brought a blanket, Rosie. The night is chilly.”    
  
“I didn’t think, really. I just wanted...” she looked down at the book in her lap, nervous of what he’d think finding her here at such an hour, alone, and on the verge of tears.    
  
“To be close to him one more time?” Harold sighed as he lowered himself beside her, drew one leg up to his chest, and rested his arm and then chin on it. “Me too. I miss him so much sometimes I can’t think straight.” His voice was thick, as he leaned his head back to gaze up at the stars. She mirrored him, sniffling softly as she recalled the last time she and James had been up here. He had pulled a massive telescope to the rail and showed her how to look at the moon. Then he had kissed her, a soft, adoring thing while Sarah Jane smiled from inside. “I thought I’d be alone up here. I just wanted to come tell him that I love him, and to ask him if he can forgive me for being the one to marry you instead of him.”    
  
“That’s why I came up.” Rose let her head fall to the side, resting against his shoulder. He was warm, just like James had been, as he pressed his cheek to her hair. “I know I have to let him go, but the memorial service, lighting the candle, packing my grieving clothes just felt too cold, too impersonal.” She looked down at the pages before her, feeling her tears beginning to flow now. “I wrote him a song. He always loved when I sang for him.”    
  
“If I may ask.” Harold lifted his cheek away and reached over to pull the cloak tighter around her. “Will you sing it for me, so we can say goodbye together?” She looked up into his eyes in the lantern light, and Rose could see he was holding back tears. She nodded softly, clearing her throat as she sat up and looked down at the pages.    
  
“Long awaited darkness falls, casting shadows on the walls. In the twilight hour, I am alone.” She felt his fingers lace through hers again, squeezing gently as she drew a breath. “Sitting near the fireplace, dying embers warm my face. In this peaceful solitude, all the outside world subdued, everything comes back to me again, in the gloom.” She tried to work past the growing tightness of her throat as she thought of James’ laugh, his cool assurance in everything he did. “Like a spirit passing through my room.”    
  
She drew a deep breath, looking up at the stars, pouring her love for her fallen prince into the stars. That’s where she would imagine him, sailing a ship or riding a charger from light to light. “Half awake and half in dreams, seeing long forgotten dreams. So the present runs into the past, now and then become entwined, playing games within my mind.” Harold heaved a rugged side beside her, swallowing audibly, but Rose didn’t stop. “Like the embers as they die, our love was one prolonged goodbye. It all comes back to me tonight, in the gloom, like a spirit passing through my room.”    
  
She closed her eyes tightly, letting her sharp tears sting down her cheeks, warming them against the chilled air. She pictured James smile as they danced for the first time, the way his eyes sparkled when they galloped through the Kingswood or curled up in the library to read. “I close my eyes, and my twilight images go by, all too soon, like a spirit passing through my room.” She let her voice trail off, setting her book aside and covering her mouth as she clung to Harold’s hand and sobbed her loss into the night.    
  
“Shhhh, I know.” Harold’s voice was shaky, as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his lap and stroking her back. “I’m here, Rosie. Just let it all out, I’ve got you darling.” She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder as he pressed his lips firmly to her hair. She knew this was improper, that she was hardly dressed, alone in the night with a man she was to marry, and even worse, sobbing over a different man. “I’m always going to be here, I promise.” He soothed her, rocking softly side to side as he pressed his forehead into her shoulder.    
  
“Don’t promise that.” Rose whimpered, pulling back in horror to look at his face. “You were the only one who didn’t promise, and you survived. If you say that, you’ll be gone too, and I can’t handle-“ she cut her words off, biting her lips into her mouth as he cupped her face, stroking her tears aside with his thumbs. Jack and James had promised to come back, but death had stolen them away.    
  
“Okay, okay, I won’t promise.” Harold pulled her face to his neck again, engulfing her in his arms. She breathed in the spice of his aftershave, letting it reassure her that she hadn’t lost him too.    
  
She rested there, holding him tightly. It wasn’t the same as James, because nobody would ever be the same as him, but for the first time, Rose didn’t feel so alone. She didn’t feel as if she would never be happy again. Harold cared deeply for her, she knew, and he always had. She cared for him too, wanted to see him safe and away from another war. She pulled back, to look into those kind, watery eyes. “I’m so glad you lived. You have to believe that.”    
  
“I know.” Harold blinked rapidly, before sniffing and brushing her hair from her sticky cheeks. “And I know I’ll never replace James, because nobody replaces first love.” Rose relaxed at his words, swallowing hard and trying to apologize with her eyes for him thinking she wanted him too. “But I can love you, in my way, if you let me. Will you let me, Rose?”    
  
“I’ll try, Harry...” She couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t promise that she would be healed enough anytime soon. “Will you be patient with me?” Then he smiled, it was that understanding one he always got when she was upset, the one that said he knew she was doing her best. He shifted her on his lap, raising his uninjured leg behind her to support her back against his knee and let her release the heaviness grief had pulled into her body.    
  
Their eyes met in the flicker of the lanterns and the light of the stars, and Rose had to giggle as he produced a handkerchief and softly dabbed her cheeks and lips. He always had one ready for her, it seemed. It was a peaceful moment, so tender and sweet, as his smile softened into something she had never seen on him, something a bit lost, a bit uncertain. “Shall we say goodbye?” He whispered, raising the tear stained handkerchief into the air. The breeze stirred it like a banner, and Rose reached up, not looking away from his face, to wrap her fingers around his.    
  
“Goodbye.” She whispered, and their hand opened. She didn’t need to look to know the wind had taken it high over the rails and away. Harold’s fingers laced with hers, and he pulled them down to his chest. His heart was thudding through his shirt, pounding against her wrist just as hers was aching in her own chest. She drew a deep breath, as the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, and his oceanic eyes were waiting in quiet invitation, one she knew she didn’t have to accept.    
  
Rose’s farewell had been said. The past was gone, and it was never coming back. All she had left to do was heal, and the man holding her so patiently, so calmly, with no judgement on his face was the future she had before her. He was broken too, from battle, from losing a brother and friends, from nearly dying himself. She could help him heal, just as she needed his help to piece her shattered heart together. Drawing a breath, she raised her unclaimed hand to stroke the now healed scar in front of his ear, and she leaned in silently.    
  
Their lips met in a whisper of breath, as Harold tilted his head and captured her bottom lip between his, once, twice, and then broke apart. Rose sighed, feeling the warmth of his breath, tasting the wine he had obviously been drinking in his room on her bottom lip as she licked it softly. It wasn’t James’ kiss, but it was nice, soothed her aching heart, and she caught his own lower lip with a gently embrace of her own. That was all she could handle, and he didn’t object as she pulled away to lay her head on his shoulder.    
  
James slid down the rope, dropping to the wood of the deck as Martha prowled out of the captains cabin looking irritable. “Uh oh.” He sighed, pulling a stained rag out to wipe his brow. “What happened Martha?” She heaved a sigh, shaking her head as she clenched her fists. She had been trying to sweet talk Jacques into going ashore when they made port in Clom the next morning.    
  
“I can’t go.” She growled, crossing her arms and shooting a glower at the now closed door. “He said I haven’t treated enough wounds to need restocking, and since I sent a message home when we picked you two up, there’s no reason for that either.” James shoved the rag into his pocket with a snarl of his own. “I’m sorry. I tried, but he is adamant about it.”    
  
“It’s fine, Martha. We’ll just have to go with our next plan.” James wasn’t looking forward to jumping ship in the middle of a busy harbor and attempting to steal horses in broad daylight, but there wasn’t any other choice. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He cast a glance around, making sure nobody was near enough to eavesdrop.    
  
“That’s the other thing. He doesn’t trust you two enough to leave you unchained when we make port.” She kicked at a knot of wood on a plank and looked down miserably. “I’m supposed to chain you by the collars before we even pass the boundaries. I’m sorry, but if I don’t...”    
  
“Your family, I know.” James was livid, but it wasn’t Martha’s fault. She had done her best, and that was all he could ask for. “Listen, when we get out of here, I’ll make sure your family is brought to the castle, and I will personally order this ship captured to get you off.”    
  
“I know, your... I mean Wilf. I know!” Martha released her arms to dig into one of the ever present pouches on her hips. She pulled out a tub of balm. “Let me put this under your collar. Those sores will get worse if I don’t.”    
  
James moved over to sit on a pile of ropes, tilting his head up as she lifted the heavy iron and rubbed the stinging but cooling salve onto his skin. An idea came to him, not related to their escape, but absolutely dependent on it. “Are you practiced in midwifery too, Martha.” She nodded, moving behind him to work the sores on the back of his neck. “When I get home, Rose will eventually need a midwife. I couldn’t think of anyone I trust more than you to bring our children into the world. Also, you’d be a fantastic addition to our team of healers.”   
  
“Thought the castle healers were all male.” Martha whispered, stepping away to close the tub and stuff it back in a pouch. “You think they’ll like having a woman coming in, making them look incompetent.”    
  
James barked out a laugh as he stood, and it felt strange at how genuine it was. This woman was something else, all sass, witty retorts, and confidence. She reminded him of his cousin Donna. “Oh, just watching them try to keep up will be worth having you around, Martha Jones.” He grinned as she rolled her eyes and chuckled at his remark, and he knew in an instant Rose would have no objections to the idea either. The two women would easily be friends.    
  
“Then I’ll do it, but first, let’s focus on getting free.” She murmured, turning away to stride towards the stairs leading down. “See you later Wilf!”    
  
“Not like we can avoid each other!” He called back, returning to his work. James needed to keep up the act. They were slowly gaining respect from the crew, not enough to be trusted, but enough that a few were including them in card games or tossing them fresh food during their shifts. This morning they were allowed to share breakfast with the men, enjoying hot coffee instead of the leftover dregs.    
  
James didn’t trust any of them as far as he could throw them, and neither did Jack, but they acted their parts. He would do anything, just about, to get home. He hated thinking what could possibly be going on. He had calculated it was nearly two months since they had been brought on board. The only stops the ship had made was in secluded coves where mostly illegal and stolen goods had been rowed ashore, and the boats returned with more than likely equally ill gained treasure and fresh supplies.    
  
This amount of time lapsed meant Harold had probably returned home, and he had probably wasted no time in staking his claim on Rose. He wished he had told her, had warned her about what lay behind his brother’s charms. She would be grieving, want to rekindle what she thought was friendship between them. James spat overboard, as he yanked a knot back into place. Harold would use it, he knew her, would be slathering on falsities about doing his best to keep her happy, to be a good husband.    
  
Well, James wasn’t going to let that happen. Harold would never get anywhere close to being her husband. Rose would do her duty, he knew. Would keep her head high, fight with everything to go on with her life. She wasn’t a quitter, ever. That’s what worried him. It was only a matter of time before she would stop grieving him and move on. The only way she could was with Harold, and the thought of her touching him, hugging him, kissing him made James’ blood boil. The thought of Harold stealing his birthright, his country, and his love was what kept him fighting. James would have no qualms throwing him in the dungeons if he returned to find a single person he loved hurt.    
  
“Wilf! You pull that any tighter, we won’t get the sails to rise!” One of the men called from above him, and James looked down at the all too secure knot in his hands. “Get your head out of your arse, or you can go to the hold now.”    
  
“I’ll fix it!” He snapped, mentally chastising himself for his mistake. He needed to keep a clear head for working. James would have to brood later. For now, he had to keep up his facade.    
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rose’s song](https://youtu.be/CAHRw7KK5jo)


	12. Chapter 12

James shivered as he climbed down into the galley. He yanked his worn gloves off, holding them over the stove. “No luck yet?” Jack asked, as he downed the last of his drink and pulled his thick overcoat on.    
  
“None.” James growled, shifting aside so Mathew, one of the few crewmen who didn’t have a length criminal history apart from smuggling, could join him. “She’s stuck well and good for now.”    
  
“You warned Jacques not to try to take this route.” Mathew huffed, rubbing his palms. “It’s gonna take hours to crack this ice. Last thing we need is the damned Gallifreyan navy finding us in their waters.” Then he chuckled. “Though I’m sure it’d be a relief for you two.”    
  
“Can’t blame a fella for hoping.” Jack pulled his scarf up over his face as he headed up the stairs.    
  
“I know these waters. The north winds turned last week, and if we had gone just a day farther west we would have been clear.” James frowned, as he stared out of the window at the trees in the distance. “He could see the Kasterborous River twinkling in the sunrise, the pink light refracting off of the massive ice sheets pouring into the cove. Those ice sheets had the Gaslight wedged tight, and they had spent most of the night in row boats trying to clear a path. It would have been so easy to jump ship here and now, if Jacques hadn’t ordered them chained to the boats.    
  
Then again, if he and Jack did reach shore without being shot by an arrow or impaled by a harpoon, they’d die of hypothermia before they reached the nearest village. He knew the village, had spent summers there with his grandfather Wilfred, who was Lord over this part of the kingdom. He also knew, by how empty the cove was, and how high the snow in the distance was piled, that the navy would be nowhere near these waters anytime soon.    
  
“What’s her name?” Mathew asked, handing James a cup of hot rum and tea. “The woman you’re hoping to see on shore?” He sighed, lifting the scalding liquid to his lips and taking a long drag. Mathew had a keen mind, which made him a viable threat to their plan or an asset, if he could be swayed. James was still not sure which it would go.    
  
“Marion, absolutely beautiful, heart of gold, and a smile that could charm a Dalek into a dance.” James stared down at the liquid, trying hard to remember exactly how Rose’s voice had sounded. It had been eight months, eight long, labor filled, lonely months since he had last kissed her goodbye. “We were engaged, but then the war... she probably thinks I’m dead.”    
  
“That bites, mate.” Mathew huffed, sipping his own drink before pulling two chairs over. “She live up this way then? That why you’re pinin’ away? Wonderin’ what she’s doing?”    
  
“She’s from a village about four days ride south of here. We moved to the castle town about a year before the war started, wanted to get on with some of the trade ships there. It was better money than fishing.” James knew he was getting far too good at lying, but he had become so use to being Wilfred now, the stories just rolled off of his tongue. “She went to work at the Castle, working as a gardener. Can’t help but wonder what she’s doing, you know.”   
  
“Well, pretty ladies with a position like that don’t mourn long mate.” Mathew shrugged, and James bit back the rebuttal brewing inside of him. Rose wouldn’t be mourning publicly, but he doubted she had stopped missing him. It was torture knowing he was so close to freedom, to being home. If they had come up this way in the spring, or summer, he and Jack would have dragged Martha overboard under the cover of night and been safe at his Grandfather’s estate before Jacques could put the order on her family. Freezing to death alone in the forest was not how he planned to go out. He was going to die old, happy, in a castle full of grandchildren with Rose by his side.    
  
“Why are we up this way anyways?” James changed the subject, having learned when he brooded over Rose he edged on slipping up and revealing his identity. That would mean certain death for them, as Jacques would not want to have the entire fleet of the navy on his tail.  “The last port was two days past and this cove is the last one before the ice sea. Only thing north of here is coal country.” He took another long drink, letting the liquid chase the chill from his veins. He would only have an hour or two respite before he was back in a row boat clearing ice.    
  
“Yep.” Mathew smirked as he took another drink. His brown eyes sparkled with a hint of a secret, and James arched an eyebrow to see if he would elaborate. “We’re picking up some very special cargo, some shadebear furs, and some crates of coal.”    
  
“What cargo?” James had to admit he was highly intrigued. Jacques and the crew often boasted about what they were smuggling and how much they were making from it. “Mathew, I know you know.”    
  
Mathew chuckled as he threw back the last of his drink, and James did the same, leaning in as the man whispered. “You didn’t hear this from me, and you’ll be of good mind to keep your trap shut about it. This isn’t a job we normally take, but we were paid obscenely well to take care of this.” His eyes cast around as if afraid, and James swallowed, wondering how dangerous this cargo could be. “Supposedly, Prince Harold’s bastard daughter.”    
  
James fell, literally out of his seat as the news hit him. He hissed as his hand hit the stove, and yanked it back, sputtering. “You’re kidding right?” He knew it, had suspected it, but now it was was confirmed. “Is the mother’s family, they the one’s paying?” He scrambled back into his chair, heart racing as his mind spun. He had a niece, a living breathing niece. She was going to come on board. Damn it, her mother was coming on board. She’d recognize him. Their cover would be blown.     
  
“Apparently the Prince is paying for it.” Mathew shrugged as he leaned back. “One of his men approached us in Clom, said normally they handled things like this, but she ran before they could. Then the war started, and now they want the problem to disappear.” He waved his hand, and James felt something between panic and dread. “Something about too many eyes on the Prince right now, and they can’t do it themselves. So, off to Skaro with the wee lass. Jacques has an old friend there who’s wife couldn’t have kids.”    
  
“And the mother?” James could see the answer in his eyes, could see that she was never stepping foot on board. “No! That’s sick! How could he take this job?! He’s a smuggler, not a damn killer.” He resisted the urge to storm up the stairs and confront Jacques then and there. He couldn’t stand aside and let this go on. It was wrong! This woman was already victimized, and now she was going to die for Harold’s crimes?    
  
“No, he isn’t, but there’s about five men on board who are.” Mathew pushed away from the stove and stood up, jamming his gloves back on. “None of them will kill an innocent babe though, which is why we’re smuggling her. If you ever want to make it back to your beautiful Marion, you’ll keep this to yourself. Maybe having the wee lass on board will be good for ya, teach ya how to mind after child should Jacques ever free you.”    
  
James stared after him as he left. Bile rose in his throat. He didn’t know what to do, how to react. The rage inside of him was boiling over. If he protested, tried to stop it, he would be killed and he’d never be able to stop Harold. If he kept up his act, pretended to be surprised when his niece was brought on board, then he’d be passively assisting with the murder of an innocent woman, one of his subjects, one of the very people he tried to protect. May Rose forgive him, but he knew what he had to do. Maybe one day, he would forgive himself for it too.    
  
Rose found herself smiling, as she hung the last strands of berries and popped corn on the hulking Yule tree in the ballroom. She had been smiling a lot lately, she had noticed. It started slowly, sneaking up on her when she didn’t realize it.    
  
A leisurely ride through the Kingswood that had turned into a spontaneous race back to the stables, Astraea’s lithe form easily outstripping Thanatos’ need for getting his legs stretched under him to gain ground had be the first one that had snuck up on her, only to be chased away by guilt as Harold playfully wedged her between himself and the paddock gate afterwards, lips smirking and teasing as they chased hers for a brief kiss. It had been a quiet moment in the gardens, as she painted the leaves turning golden beyond the wall. He had settled onto the grass beside her, playing his flute as she worked, and she’d felt content in the brisk autumn afternoon. It had become morning tea on the balcony across from the libraries, and leisurely strolls through the winter market. Some days the guilt at being happy made her want to run away and hide, but slowly it faded, until it would only come to her when she laid down to sleep. By the first snowfall, Rose could go days without feeling it, and only when she dreamed of James did it hurt enough to cry.    
  
The brothers courted as differently as they looked. James had been blatant, straight forward, confident and assured in his ways. He had been a hand to hold when thunder storms came, solid and safe to fall into. He had been bold adventures from stories, the dark, brooding, stalwart hero who took charge, but also yielded his heart to the fair maiden.    
  
Harold was teasing, like the first signs of spring. He was the gentle trickster, a spontaneous spin in the rain, the cup of hot tea to ease her scratchy throat the next day. He was the sun after the storm parted, beckoning with patient eyes and a catlike smile to see how the world could survive, be renewed by the ferocity of the storm’s wrath.    
  
“That tree is almost as beautiful as you.” Harold’s whisper in her ear made Rose squeal in shock and jump. He chuckled, arms wrapping around her waist from behind as she tried to restart her heart. “Did I scare you, Blossom? I’m sorry. I thought you heard me come up?”    
  
“You know damn well I didn’t hear you Harold Saxon!” Rose gasped, pressing her hand to her chest as she tried to bring her breathing back to normal. “That’s why you did it!” She spun in his arms, to glower up at him, but he kissed her nose playfully and pulled her closer to him, killing her sharp look as he chuckled.    
  
“Such foul language for a Lady.” Harold’s eyes sparkled down at her in that way they always did when he had a surprise. He had a surprise at least once a week for her, sometimes two. A new paint set perched cheerfully on her breakfast plate had been the first, followed by a jeweled comb holding her braid up in the knot he created as she fed Astraea treats. There had been a box of Clom chocolates presented on bended knee in the garden as she was reading, and a new muff and cloak draped over the rail across from her room. “Maybe you don’t deserve what I’ve got in my hand.”    
  
“Maybe there should be some more space between your bodies!” Sarah Jane came in her arms loaded with garland to be hung on the rafters overhead. She shook her head, smiling as she passed them to the ladder one of the gardeners had brought in. She caught Rose’s eye with a conspiratorial wink. “You both know better.”    
  
“I can’t help myself.” Harold chuckled, as he pulled back just enough that their chests weren’t touching. “I see a lovely flower, and I simply have to hold it.” Rose rolled her eyes, slapping his chest playfully. This earned her throaty growl as his eyes darkened for half a moment in a way that made her breath hitch. Then he was smiling again.    
  
“Don’t tease me, Harry. What did you bring me?” Rose reached back to grab his hands, but he whipped them away behind his back. She planted her hands on her hips, trying to decide which to pick. “Left.” That seemed a the best option, and she enough he brought it around and let his fingers unfurl. Coiled up on his palm was a choker style, white gold necklace, and the links met at the charm. It was shaped like trunk lock no bigger than her thumb, and it was adorned in red and black gemstones. “Oh, Harold, it’s beautiful.”    
  
“Let me put it on you.” He beamed, and Rose turned, happy she had worn her hair up, so he could pull it around her neck and clasp it with a brush of fingers to the nape of her neck. “Let me see.” She faced him again, reaching up to fiddle with the charm, enjoying the slight weight as it rested against the base of her throat. “Absolutely perfect.” His fingers moved hers away so he could touch it, a cat that ate the cream smile pulling at his lips. “Happy Yule, my Lady.”    
  
“Happy Yule, my Prince.” Rose reached up to tug the chain holding his cloak in place, and giggled as he dipped down to brush their lips together in a Sarah Jane approved appropriate kiss. “I have your gift. Would you like to see?”    
  
“Does a kitten chase string?” Harold laughed, and Rose found herself squealing again as he swept her up into his arms. “Where are we going?!” His voice was eager, as he gave her a playful bounce, and Rose had to loop her arms around his neck as she laughed at his exuberance.    
  
“Harold Peter!” Sarah Jane sighed from across the room. “You know better!” Rose felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment as she remembered they were not alone in the least, and that such behavior was frowned upon unless she couldn’t walk herself or they were married.   
  
Harold rolled his eyes, making Rose giggle even more. “Come now Sarah Jane, it’s not like I’m ravaging her here in front of everyone!”    
  
Rose felt her jaw drop at the blunt, amused retort. “Prince Harold!” She gasped at the same time Sarah Jane shouted his name. He didn’t seemed phased in the least, so she tugged some of the hair on the back of his hair to tell him to behave. That dark flash was back in his eyes, but instantly gone.    
  
“It’s Yule! Let me have some fun for once!” Harold turned so he was facing Sarah Jane, who looked between Harry’s eager face, Rose’s flushed cheeked grin. She sighed heavily, waving them away. “So, where are we going?”    
  
“To the banquet hall. I put it there when I came down this morning.” Rose had been up early, helping Sarah Jane prepare for the Yule Day Ball. By midafternoon, the castle would be crawling with the townsfolk, visiting nobles, and a feast fit for, well, a king. Harold carried her out of the ballroom and into the empty dining hall beside it. He didn’t put her down until they reached the object draped in a velvet cloth. “Open it.” Harold pulled the cloth away, and Rose bit her lip as he took in his gift.    
  
“Rose, it’s perfect.” He ran his hand along the shield, which was designed exactly the same as the token she had given him. “Pray I’ll never have to use it in war, but it will look spectacular at the spring joust!” He seized it up, sliding it onto his arm to test its weight. “You always want to protect me, don’t you?”    
  
“Always.” Rose swallowed as he removed it, laying back on the table and fixing her with a look she didn’t know how to describe, not possessive, or territorial, but something more wild, more fleeting. “Do you really like it?”    
  
Harold responded by crossing the space between them, grabbing her waist, and backing her into a wall with an adoring smile. Rose knew she should push him away, because it was so far from propriety it wasn’t even in the same kingdom. Yet, the way his eyes were blazing at her, bouncing between hers like he had just been told he had won the king’s purse at the tournaments killed her protest. “I love it, and forgive me Rose, but I love you.”    
  
Rose didn’t have time to respond, because his lips covered hers with a heady groan. It wasn’t their previous ones, soft, mostly closed, and brief. This was powerful, all open lips, tongue touching hers, and claiming. It shot through her, making her gasp as the sheer passion behind it, and she raced to keep up. It was a bit too wet, too sloppy, too forceful for her, but it was real, raw, and the way it made her feel breathless and trembling was terrifyingly delightful. She fisted his shirt in her hands, pulling him closer, needing to erase the guilt that had begun to form.    
  
As if he knew what was on her mind, Harold released her hips to grab her face, pulling away to stare down at her with an unmistakably hungry look, and then went for her lips again. Rose met him halfway this time, desperate to feel that strange warmth James’ first real kiss had brought. Maybe if she did, the guilt would go away.    
  
“That’s a little bit too much fun!” Sarah Jane exclaimed, making them break apart as Harold shifted his weight and folded his hands in front of himself, looking not the least bit sheepish. “Now, Prince Harold, go find some other way to occupy yourself. I have to get Rose upstairs and ready for the ball.”    
  
“See you later.” Rose gasped, running her tongue over her lips as Sarah Jane shooed her away. She looked back over her shoulder at Harold, who blew her a kiss before strutting away whistling happily. Happy Yule indeed.    
  


 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See trigger warnings in tags

Rose gasped for air as she dashed through the snow. She would be in a world of trouble, she knew, once she got back to the castle. By now the variety of guards assigned to her, always different, should have known she was never just going for a ride around the grounds. The magical lure of the Kingswood in winter was too tempting to ignore, especially on such a clear day. She just meant to ride to the waterfall, to see the breathtaking, frozen cascade suspended in mid air with a thousand crystals that sparkled in the sun.    
  
She had dismounted, was making her way up the bank to catch some of the trickle on her palm and taste the sharp, sweet crispness of it, when the snowball had caught her in the back. Harold, of course, was standing there, with his dazzling smile. His scarlet and gold clothes, with the black bear fur coat was bright against the snow, and the hilt of his sword sparkled as he crouched, like a cat stalking a bird. “You shouldn’t abandon your guards Rose!” He laughed, wildly, manic almost, and full of challenge. “Run!” He called, scooping more snow in his hand. She had run.    
  
Giggling, Rose listened for his boots in the snow, cheeks burning from the bite of the air. Red flashed over head to her right, and Rose let a packed ball fly. “Gotcha!” She trilled, as Harold sputtered and wiped his face. Off she went again, ducking, twisting, turning. “You’ll never catch me!” She called, spying a fallen log beneath a massive evergreen. She sprinted towards it, placing one foot to launch herself up, thankful for riding trousers, caught a branch and hauled herself up.    
  
“Yes I will!” Harold came plowing through the trees, and Rose pressed herself flat against the trunk. He spun around, looking everywhere but up, with a sudden Idea, Rose grabbed the next branch up and pulled hard, laughing as the snow on the needles avalanched down onto him. “Why you little!” His eyes darted up, wild, predatory in that way he always got when she teased him.    
  
“Catch me.” Rose leaped down, rolling in the snow, and took off again before he could free himself from the snowbank she had made. She was caught up in the game, enjoying the moment just to be herself, unbridled by massive skirts and spoonfed etiquette, that it wasn’t until she didn’t hear Harry behind her when she stumbled to a stop. “Damn.” She panted, turning around to try to gain her bearings. She didn’t recognize this grove, spying none of the markings on the trees that indicated the trail back to the castle. She could see her footprints, but she needed to catch her breath. The sun overhead said they had been at their snow war for almost an hour.    
  
She headed towards a rock that jutted up, intending to sit, when something snapped under her boot, and it didn’t feel like a stick. “Huh.” She knelt, scooping the snow away, and gasped as her fingers touched a skull that looked frighteningly like a cat. That was strange, domesticated cats rarely wandered away from the readily available scraps and rats of the castle or town. A boot crunched to her right, and she turned, seeing nothing in the trees. “Harold, come on. Show yourself!” She grinned, shivering in the biting wind. He didn’t answer, and a step crunched behind her, then to her right.    
  
James’ long forgotten warning, his outburst from a year ago stabbed into her mind. Don’t go into the Kingswood without him. It was dangerous, she didn’t know what was out there. “Harry, stop. This isn’t funny.” Rose backed against the stone, looking down and stumbling back as she found it stained rust red with long dried blood. “Harry! Stop playing!” She turned, ready to run back to where her prints were, but her path was blocked by a man in tattered furs and a wicked looking knife.    
  
“Little Ladies should know better than to wander the woods alone.” The man smiled, a lethal thing that chilled her more than the ice. “There’s danger out here, boars, bears, wolves.”    
  
“I’m not scared of you!” Rose dug into her coat, pulling out the dagger she had carried since the attack last spring. “I can fight!” At her words, a hand seized her wrist from behind, twisting it painfully as the dagger fell to the snow. “Let me go! Harry! Help me!”    
  
“Oh he’ll help you.” A slurred voice in her ear chuckled, as his hand came around to press a blade to her throat. “Or what’s let of you.” Rose was shoved forward, and she stumbled to keep from falling. Her heart was racing with a single thought, run. She didn’t get far, as the first man tackled her into the snow, pinning her down by her throat as his blade trailed down her face. She clawed at him, trying to get to his eyes, but the second man fell beside her head and grabbed them, pinning them over her.    
  
“Leave me alone!” Rose screamed, trying to gain footing with her boots in the slick snow. She jerked her body, trying to dislodge the man on her, but he slid back, sitting on her thighs and ripping her coat open. “Stop! Don’t touch me!” The blade dipped under the fur lined leather of her shirt, and it split open, revealing her wool undershirt that he promptly sliced open too. The cold wind bit at her exposed breasts, making her shout. Realization of what they were doing blazed into her, as the man’s other hand went to work ripping the leather ties of her trousers. “No! No!” The man at her arms knelt on her wrists, as he reached down to cover her mouth. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Where was Harold? Hadn’t he heard her scream? Didn’t he care?    
  
Blood squirted across her face, and Rose screeched into the dirty, gloved palm as she saw the head of man on her legs fall to the snow. Harold was standing there, face contorted in rage, sword shining, and he screamed as he stabbed it forward. The man over her howled in terror as it pierced his chest, and he staggered back. “How fucking dare you!” Harold bellowed, jumping over her. There was a sickening squelch and the sound of bones breaking. The other man’s head flew to her right, disappearing in the snow.    
  
“Harry.” Rose pushed herself up, as she stared around at the scarlet puddles staining the snow. She gasped for air, and the taste of blood on her tongue made her wretch. Suddenly everything shattered around her, and she found herself shaking, tears burning down her face. “They... they were..”    
  
“Rose, shhh, no I’m here.” Harold was crouching beside her, sword sheathed again, as he reached towards her swiftly. Rose balked for a moment, afraid of the black gloves on his palm, the red rivulets trickling down it. Then they were gone, and his clean fingers extended once more. “Come here, Rosie love, come here.” His voice was so soft, so soothing, that she threw herself into his arms. “There’s my girl.” His lips pressed into her head and she sobbed into his shirt.    
  
“You saved me.” Rose couldn’t stop shaking, the knowledge of what would have happened if Harold had been just minutes more delayed. She looked up, seeing her attackers motionless forms. “I thought you weren’t coming. I tried to fight, but they...”    
  
“I’m sorry, Rose. I couldn’t figure out where your screams were coming from.” Harry held her out with gentle hands, eyes trailing down her body, and Rose remembered her destroyed shirt and exposed chest. “If I hadn’t already severed their worthless heads, I’d kill them again.” His fingers pulled her shirt closed and he fastened her coat with amazing delicacy. Rose wiped her face, wincing as she felt the blood sticky and filthy there. “Let’s get you home. You can take a warm bath, and I’ll sit with you by the fire.”    
  
Nodding, Rose staggered to her feet, she felt her riding trousers slip, and she remembered with a choked sob that they were untied. She fumbled for the strings, trying to get her numb, trembling fingers to work. Harold came up on his knees, pushing her hands away gently to tighten the laces and knot them firmly, then stood, and Rose found herself ashamed to meet his eyes. She felt filthy, tarnished, inside and out. “Do you still want me?” She gasped, unsure of why the words came out.    
  
“More than all the jewels in the world.” Harry pulled her under his arm, shielding her face from the bodies as he led her back the way she’d come. “You’re mine, and nothing these men did or didn’t do to you will change that.” Rose finally met his eyes, seeing nothing but pain at her tears and adoration in their fathomless depths. “I love you.”    
  
It wasn’t what she had felt for James, but the feelings were there, not as powerful, not as consuming, but it was there. The safety his arms brought, the soft kisses that rained on her hair, the way he lifted her into his arms as they reached the more shallow snow to carry her to their horses only fanned the smoldering embers in her chest. When he angled her to Thanatos, having her sit sidesaddle, and mounted behind her as Astraea followed behind, Rose leaned into his chest again, the well treated shadesbear fur coarse yet soft all at once on her cheek. “I love you too, Harry.”    
  
“I would like to kiss you, my beautiful blossom, but not if you’re still too shaken.” His words were a whisper as they drew near the Kingswood gates where a squad of soldiers was racing towards them on horse back, obviously drawn by her screaming.    
  
“I’m covered in blood.” Rose looked up at his hesitant smile. He cocked an eyebrow, as he slowed Thanatos down to a near stop.    
  
“I’ve had the blood of my enemies on my skin more than once.” Harold shook his head, as he covered her cheek with a palm. “Your lips will be sweet all the same to me.” Rose couldn’t resist when he spoke to her like that, and she offered her lips to his. He took them in the tenderest of embraces, and the warmth of him, the safety he radiated as the guards surrounded them left no room for guilt, for second thoughts. It wasn’t true love, but safe love.    
  
She closed her eyes as he barked orders at the guards, informing them of where the bodies were and what had occurred. Rose was so busy trying to calm the last vestiges of fear in her gut, that she missed Harold passing a bag of gold to the guard who was supposed to ride with her that morning.    
  
“How is she?” James and Jack merged on Martha as soon as she came down to the hold. It was after sunrise, so they had been locked in as usual, while Martha had waited on deck for the men to return. “Let me see her.” The bundle of furs in her arms was writhing, whimpering and Martha passed them to him. He opened them gently, gazing down at the mess of strawberry blonde hair and striking blue eyes identical to his own. “She’s beautiful.”   
  
“Strong, but cold and hungry.” Martha sighed, as she frowned and looked up at the door. “I’m going to go get some milk from the goat one of the men stole. The little one here has teeth, but she’ll still need milk for a few more months.”    
  
James looked back down at his niece. She was the size of an eight or nine month old, and her plump cheeks were red with crying and the frost. She gave a garbled wail of what sounded like ‘mama’, and he felt his heart break as she struggled against the tight swaddling. “We’ll watch her. Hurry back.” James looked over at Jack who was frowning as well, and he freed the infants arms as he righted her against his shoulder, careful not to bump her head on his collar. “Hush, little one.” He whispered softly. “Uncle James has you.”    
  
“She’s his all right.” Jack grumbled, as he reached out to stroke her tangled curls. “The Saxon eyes are unmistakable, better hope none of the crew notices you match.”    
  
“I doubt they will.” James huffed as he paced the hold, trying to soothe the sobbing, struggling babe. “Most will avoid her anyways, and Martha is going to be keeping care of her.” The little girl screamed loudly, tiny palms pushing at his face as her head went wild, looking for the mother that would never come. He had a niece, and she was beautiful, strong, and loud. He didn’t even know her name. “What should we call her?”    
  
“Don’t ask me.” Jack sank to their pile of blankets against the wall furthest from hold grating overhead. “Love kids, but not enough to have picked out any names.”    
  
“Anthea.” The name came to him, as he remembered his mother pulling his own five year old hand to her swollen abdomen and explaining that he was going to have a brother or sister. “My mother’s second name. It means flower blossom.” The little girl was still fussing, but she had stopped screaming and writhing, and her red rimmed, terrified eyes met his. “Anthea, do you like that? You’re pretty as a flower aren’t you?” She responded by latching onto his nose with a hungry sound and sucking twice before pulling away. “Oi! No milk there little missy!” Jack howled with laughter in the corner, and James couldn’t help but chuckle as the tiny fists began pulling at his lips and ears.    
  
“Milk! Mama milk!” Anthea’s thumb went to her mouth, and James lowered himself beside Jack to wrap himself and his niece in a blanket.    
  
“Martha will bring you milk, Thea, be patient.” James looked over at Jack who was watching him with a surprised but amused expression. “What?” His friend bit his lip and snorted. “Oh don’t start. I can’t just ignore her.” He almost said ‘she’s my bloody niece’ but stopped himself as Martha returned with a small cup that was fragrant with the smell of goats milk. “Perfect timing, she’s starving.”    
  
“Give her here.” Martha crouched down, arm extended, and James held Anthea tightly to him. “Do you want to blow your cover?” She hissed, her dark eyes flashing. No, he didn’t, he couldn’t. “Then give her here and get some sleep.”    
  
“Anthea.” James sighed, as he surrendered the girl to Martha, who stood and held the cup to his nieces lips. The beautiful little thing made an eager noise and began to drink. “We named her Anthea.”    
  
“It suits her.” Martha finally smiled, as she made her way to the door leading to her room. Then she paused, turning around with another frown. “Bad news though, we won’t be making any main ports again until we reach Skaro to deliver her. We’ll be hitting the normal coves to trade for supplies, but that’s it.”    
  
“Skaro is a three month journey by sea!” James growled as she offered him a sympathetic smile and retreated to her room. “Three months! No! This can’t be happening.” The disbelief, rage, and unfairness of it all made him slam his fist into the floor. “Three bloody months!” By rhen it would be Rose’s seventeenth name day. It would be a full year since he had ridden to war, far too much time for Harold to do something to her, be it play his sick games or woo her.    
  
“Shut up!” Jack kicked his leg, looking up at the grate overhead. “That gives us more time to get Jacques to trust us. Don’t expose us now.”   
  
“I know!” James flopped down on his pile of blankets, stewing in his rage. This was taking too long, going too awry. He needed to keep himself under control, not let the agony of missing Rose, missing his father, Sarah Jane, get to him. It would do him, or the others, any good to end up dead. He and Jack had survived thus far, and they had to keep going.    
  
It pained him, as with each passing day memories were slipping from him. He knew Rose’s lips were soft, but he couldn’t remember the taste. Sarah Jane wore oils in her brown hair, but the smell had abandoned him. His father’s hand would clap heavily on his shoulder, but was the ring on the middle or first finger when it pressed through his shirt. Rose’s fingers were perfect in his, but how soft were they again? What was the exact shade of her eyes, honey, amber, whiskey?    
  
All of these things he could dream of, when he wasn’t too exhausted to just pass out. Yet awake, lying here trying to recall them was torturous. It made his chest tighten, his throat feel thick and angry. He needed to get home to them, to protect them, and his plans were crumbling around him like stale bread tossed to the birds. He squeezed his eyes shut, rolling so his back was to Jack, and fell asleep to the lullaby Martha was crooning across the hold to his niece.

 


	14. Chapter 14

James howled his fury as Anthea’s scream had summoned him from cleaning fish in the galley. It hadn’t been her usual hungry or upset cry. It had been one of sheer terror that was marked by Martha echoing her. He raced down to the hold, finding her door open. A shirtless back was to him, a man, his shoulder length black hair unmistakable as Brontwick, a crewman Jacques had hired on at their last cove stop three days prior.    
  
Anthea was sitting on the hold floor, clutching her blanket and yowling at the top of her tiny lungs. A thud echoed from the room as Brontwick shoved at something, and he heard Martha curse. “Get away from her!” He didn’t think, he just ran forward, seizing Brontwick from behind by the waist as wrenching him away from where his friend was sprawled on the bed, lip bleeding, shirt ripped open.    
  
“Bastard!” James swung, his fist colliding with Bruntwicks jaw, knocking him down as boots scrambled overhead with shouts. “Nobody touches Martha!” He fell back, hands up, twirling the fish gut coated knife as Bruntwick came up, a blade flashing in his own hand. “Rules of the ship, you scum.”   
  
“Figures she was fuckin’ at least one of ya. Thought it might be the pretty one.” Bruntwick sneered, spitting bloody phlem at James and slicing forward. Years of training, months of battle roared to life, and James pressed the back of his knife flat against his forearm and blocked Bruntwick’s arm with the edge, blood gushing from the cut it dug out. “Oh you’ll pay for that dog!”    
  
Martha, the brave, crazy woman she was, came off the bed with a roar of rage, jumping onto Bruntwicks back, arms latched around his throat. “Leave him alone!” She howled, as Anthea cried louder at her foster mother’s anger and fear.    
  
James tried to get to Bruntwick, to take him down without hurting Martha, but the man slammed back into the wall, making her head collide with one of the old iron rings that had been designed for prisoner chains. She slid to the floor with a groan, and the man came at James again. There was no denying the fire in his eyes, the thirst for blood, because James had seen it all too much in his life.    
  
It was so simple, like moving to the sound of a violin, as James sidestepped, bringing his knife up. The blade met bearded skin just below the jaw, gliding through it like a spoon through cream, and he flung his arm out. Turning, crouching slightly to guard Martha’s body from her assailant, he watched as Bruntwick turned. The man’s green eyes went wide, as his hand tried to cover the gaping cut across his neck, and then he dropped to his knees.    
  
“What in the blazes?!” Jacques skidded into the room, taking in the scene before him, and James looked over to see Jack scooping Thea off of the floor and patting her back. “Wilf, explain yourself!”    
  
“Bruntwick was trying to assault Martha. He won’t do it again.” Dropping his knife, he knelt beside her, helping her sit up as she winced and touched the back of her head. He hated killing, hated knowing he had more blood on his hands. Yet, some filth signed their own executions. It couldn’t be undone now. “There’s a girl.” He said gently, pulling her shirt closed and cupping her face. “I’m sorry.”    
  
“Why’re you apologizing.” Martha groaned, pulling her fingers away to reveal blood from her scalp. “You stopped him.” She looked past him and grimaced. “Permanently. Don’t do things by halves, do you?”    
  
“Never.” James helped her to her feet, grabbing a cloth and pressing it to her head as he turned to Jacques. “Shall I go up now, or after I tend to her head.” There weren’t many rules on the ship: Don’t touch Martha or Anthea, don’t steal rations, don’t drink or eat anything that belonged to Jacques, and the only one authorized to kill a crewman was Jacques.  Jack was watching in open horror, mouth open as he was shaking his head.    
  
It couldn’t be helped, some lines he couldn’t draw in the sand. He would walk the plank, knowing the only woman he managed to save from a beast like Harold was Martha. He’d accepted that fate, sent a silent plea to Rose to forgive him, but he also knew that Jack wouldn’t give up, would get to James’ love and protect her. “You can’t!” Martha threw herself in front of him, grabbing Jacques by the coat. “Bruntwick broke orders first! Wilf just defended my honor!”    
  
“I can’t forgive one violation by another.” Jacques frowned, looking between them. James knew this, and he accepted it, not without chagrin. The deed was done, couldn’t be taken back. “A captain is only as good as his word.”    
  
“Wif, wif!” Anthea’s muffled sob as she held her arms out to him, seeking the strong arms that held her while Martha made her breakfast or told her stories in the early evening glow for the last three weeks, made his throat catch.    
  
“Take Thea from Grayson, Martha.” James set her aside, holding his head up as he walked past Jacques into the openness of the hold. Half the crew was standing there, whispering and shaking their heads as they parted for him. He didn’t. “Grayson, don’t forget our promise.” He called back, not looking at Jack. His boots thudded on the steps as he pushed the door open.    
  
The night air was crisp, smelling of the sleet storm that was coming. There wouldn’t be full snow, not this far south, but the sea would be freezing. It would be a quick death, if he didn’t struggle. James wasn’t at peace, but he wasn’t afraid either. “I’m sorry, Rose, Father.” He whispered, as he approached the roped off gap in the starboard side and felt the wind bite at his exposed skin. “I can’t think of a more honorable reason to die, though.”    
  
An uproar made him turn, as the crew spilled out onto deck. Jack was at the lead, behind Jacques, their shouts making the words incoherent. “Enough!” Jacques bellowed, drawing his sword. In the hazy light of the half moon and dozens of oil lanterns hung along the deck, James met his eyes. “If I don’t punish you, I face my crew never obeying my orders again. If I kill you, I face a mutiny.”    
  
“Is there no honor amongst thieves?” Martha’s voice rang out, as she pushed her way through, clutching Anthea to her chest under a fur cloak. “Is that not what you said to me when you swore my safety amongst your crew?” James tried to shoot her a look, to tell her to keep out of things before she joined him. “I agreed to pay my father’s debt, so long as you swore I would return to Mickey fit for marriage, and you want to kill the man who upheld that vow?”    
  
“Martha-“ Jacques growled, but she cut him off.    
  
“Is there no honor?” She stepped right into the captain’s space, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I owe Wilfred a life debt for what he did, and I’m claiming it now. If you kill him, then may the gods and goddesses see that you refused my claim.” The silence that followed was deafening, with nothing but the creaking of wood and slaps of waves below piercing the night.    
  
Jacques sighed, sheathing his sword. “No sailor worth his salt would risk denying a life debt.” He growled, turning to James. “But I can’t let rules go broken. Twenty lashes should cover the blood you spilled.” He snapped his fingers, and James felt his world turn as he stumbled away from the rail to the mast. “And scullery duty for a week. Grayson, take Miss Jones and baby Thea below deck, see to her wounds and fetch her something strong and hot. Mathew, secure Wilfred to the mast, and fetch my whip.”    
  
He willingly stripped his shirt over his head, biting down on the cloth as he braced his hands on the slick, frozen wood of the mast. He sent a silent thank you to Martha, to her quick thinking, and closed his eyes as Mathew bound his hands and wrists to the whipping rings. “You been whipped before?” The man whispered, and James nodded. He had been lashed twice in Skaro. It was painful, but he would trade a thousand strikes if it meant he lived long enough to get home. “Then you know not to tense. Stay relaxed, and you won’t pass out.” He growled his confirmation, nodding once as the man disappeared.    
  
James closed his eyes, recalling something, anything to help him relax. His mother was walking beside his first pony, singing a song. Sarah Jane was brushing his pox fevered face with a cool rag, assuring him the pain would be over soon. Rose was ten, staring at him with stubborn eyes and a proud jaw as she pointed out the very idea he had just uttered. Her skin glowed in the blue gown, curtsying low, then the way she laughed as he twirled her around the dance floor. The moon turned her tear soaked cheeks to stars as she agreed to marry him a second time, and he relaxed against the wood. The whip cracked, and he clung to the mast as he swallowed his pain twenty times over.    
  
Rose beamed as Harold trotted Thanatos away from the knight he had just unseated to dismount and bow low before the King’s box, pulling off his helm and making a show of kissing the thin, pink scarf she had presented to him when the spring tournament had begun that morning. “And the winner of the first day’s jousting event goes to Prince Harold!” Rassilon roared as the crowd cheered. “What does he claim for his prize besides the right to compete in tomorrow’s events?”    
  
“A kiss from a Rose!” He laughed, extending his hand to her as he stood. “Not just any Rose, but the one that turns seventeen today!” She felt her cheeks flush as Rassilon nudged her towards the steps that led down to the oblong track. She skirted around it, bending at the waist so that she could giggle into his eyes. “And maybe for her to ride with me to my squire so I can change and take her for a walk.”    
  
“Absolutely.” Rose pressed her lips to his for a brief but fierce kiss, which elicited few whistles from the men and some disappointed sighs from the ladies. “Shall we then?”    
  
“Up you get.” Harold laughed as he stood, bending one knee to let her climb up into Thanatos’ towering, decorative saddle, and she grabbed onto the braided mane with one hand to steady herself, and held his helm in her lap with the other as he mounted behind her. It wasn’t as comfortable when he was in armor, but it made the citizens cheer as they cantered out of the arena. “That tiara suits you.” Harold chuckled, as they slowed to a walk. Since he was competing, and there was no queen or other son to be by the king’s side, Rose had been granted the title of Princess Intended for the three says of the festivities.    
  
Honestly, it was a silly title, she thought, but Harry had seemed to enjoy surrendering his spot at his father’s side to her, as he settled the thin intricate circlet on her hair. She cast a look back at the King, who was walking towards a healer tent. “Maybe we should check on your father.” She said softly, feeling a frown pull her lips down. “He has had a terrible headache all morning, and he just went to the healers.”    
  
“Tournaments always give him one.” Harold chuckled, as he pulled Thanatos to a stop and one of the squires attending his gear opened his arms to her. Rose went willingly, smoothing her blue skirts as she watched him dismount. “He’s been complaining about it for a day or two now, nothing to worry about. The healers will give him something.” Harold kissed her brow with a smile, and Rose grinned in response. “Jacob, get my Lady some wine while I change.”    
  
“Yes, Your Highness.” The young teen scurried into the tent after Harold, and when he returned he handed her a large silver goblet of wine. “My Lady.” She took it with a nod as she watched the passing knights and squires that filled this section of the field outside of the town walls.    
  
The air was still cool, clinging to the remnants of winter with determination, but the sun warmed her face as she drew a deep breath. Rose loved spring. She loved how everything was born anew, the birds returning and building nests in the gardens, the wildflowers beginning to unfurl and new leaves sprouting bright green overhead. After such a cold winter, after everything that had happened since last spring, she welcomed the rebirth of the world with open arms.    
  
“Happy Name Day, my love.” Harold’s hands coming around her waist, sliding against her dress, and then moving against her back made her look down. She gasped at the gift, an intricate belt made of gold shaped like ivy, with pearls clustered together like flowers rested against her dress, glinting in the sunlight.    
  
“Oh, thank you!” Rose touched it, unable to stop from smiling as she turned to look up at him. “You spoil me far too much.” It was true, but yet she adored and thanked him for every gift, be it an elegant quill from the tropical birds of San Kaloon or the obscenely exquisite diamond hair net she had carefully locked in her room.    
  
“If you think so, I can always...” Harold chuckled, reaching around her as if to untie the belt, but Rose pressed up on her toes to catch him in a kiss. His hands slid up her sides, as he immediately took over the kiss, tongues touching far too much for her liking, but she had gotten used to it, and took her goblet tossing it over his shoulder. Rose giggled, lacing her hands around his neck, as he nipped at her bottom lip and hauled her against him. Such things were allowed now that she was seventeen.    
  
Rose knew how to keep up now, how to meet his pattern, and she eagerly did. This pleased him to no end, she knew, and just as he did anytime he managed to sneak her away from Sarah Jane, Rose found herself being backed up, and braced herself for her back to touch something, in this case, a weapons cart. She pulled at his lips with a happy hum, as he braced a hand beside her head on the wood and squeezed her hip with the other.    
  
It felt good, each kiss they shared becoming more familiar. While they didd make her feel a bit dizzy, especially when he curled his tongue along the roof of her mouth like that, she still hadn’t felt that warm feeling in her chest and stomach. She had figured out, after questioning Sarah Jane, that it had, indeed, been arousal. She had told Rose that it would come with Harold’s touch eventually, that she shouldn’t chase it and it would grow when she was ready.    
  
She still didn’t feel warm, but sometimes there was an increase of her heart, the urge to press herself into him, like now. So she did just that. Running her hands into his hair, she pulled him closer, earning her a groan into his mouth as their hips pressed together. At first she thought his sword hilt had wedge between them, but then he rocked against her with a growl, and Rose gasped in astonishment as she made the connection. “Harry.” She hissed, pulling her lips away, panting as she blinked up at him. “That’s inappropriate.”    
  
“You started it.” His voice was low and gravely, as he licked his lips and smiled down at her with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Stop fussing, no one can see us.” She sighed as he caught her lips again, this time his hand fisting softly in her hair, and he broke away to pull her head to the side, rocking against her again as he bit playfully below her ear. “Mmm So sweet, is that jasmine?” His tongue curled along her skin, making her shiver.    
  
“Harold enough!” Rose pushed him away, perhaps a bit too hard, her heart pounding as a memory of snow and blood and knives coursed into her mind. She stumbled away, covering her mouth as she braced herself against the back of the wagon. “I’m sorry... I just... the Kingswood.”    
  
“Rose, no.” Harold touched her back softly, rubbing soothing circles as he took her hand and pulled it away. She looked up, finding his eyes wide with apology and concern. “I shouldn’t have taken it so far. The thrill of the joust, of the tournament, they made me too bold.” His hand cupped her cheek gently, and she blinked up at him, unable to tear her eyes away from his kiss swollen lips. “Here, how about this?” She went to him as he gently took her waist, brushing there lips together in the softest of whispers.    
  
“Better.” Rose relaxed into him, looping her arms around his torso for a soft embrace. “I like when you hold me.” She sighed, resting her ear over his pounding heart.    
  
“I can do it more often now.” He chuckled, kissing her hair. Rose liked the sound of that, and she pressed her lips to his shirt. A sudden cry made them jump apart, as men began running towards the healers tent. “What in the blazes?”    
  
“Prince Harold! Come quick!” One of the Kingsguard bellowed. “It’s your father!”    
  
“Come with me.” Harold snatched Rose’s hand as her heart began to pound in fear, and they raced towards the tent. She gasped, tears filling her eyes as she ducked inside.    
  
“Father!” Harold released her to drop to his knees by the cot where the king lay. His face was ashen, breathing sporadic and ragged, as healers struggled to spoil liquid into his mouth. Rose knew that bitter smell, willow bark extract. The king’s heart was failing. “Save him!” Harold screamed, seizing his father’s good hand.    
  
“The willow bark isn’t working!” One of the healers yelped. “It’s making it worse!” The King’s gurgling breaths stopped, and everyone froze. “Gwt him to the floor! Now!”    
  
Rose pressed herself back into one of the Kingsguard, who pulled her to his chest with an armored hand. She felt tears leaking out as Harold and the healers dragged Rassilon to the dirt and began pounding on his chest, blowing hair into his mouth. “Don’t look, my Lady.” The guard whispered, bringing his hand up to cover her eyes. Rose pushed it away, but clung to it in desperation as Harold fell back, slamming his fist on the ground with a heart shattering cry. “Go to him, go now, before he hurts himself.”    
  
Rose didn’t feel herself moving, but in a blink she was kneeling beside Harold who pulled her into a crushing embrace as his hot tears stung her hands. She was crying too, as every guard present removed their helms and sank their swords into the ground with a rattle of armor. Nobody was speaking, and she couldn’t stand the silence. She was about to speak when Harold moved her from his lap to kiss his father’s brow.    
  
“Prepare him for viewing.” Harold’s voice was flat, but when he looked at her Rose saw only a lost little boy gazing back. The healers began to scramble, and she tried to stopper her soft sobs as Harold turned to the Kingsgard. “Take up your swords and fetch your shields.” Then his eyes found her again, his hand extending with trembling fingers. “My Lady, I require you to gather the people. Bring them to the archery field. I must go pray for my father’s journey to the gods.”    
  
“Yes, Your Highness.” Rose took his hand and sniffed hard as he raised it to her lips. “I’ll be waiting for you.” At his nod, tears staining his cheeks, she left his side and stepped out into the small gathered crowd of knights and guards. “Gather everyone in the archery field. Do not ask, for I wasn’t told to explain. Just do as your Prince commands.”    
  
Rose made her way through the festival, giving the order to assemble. When she approached her rest tent, Sarah Jane came out, her face confused until it fell. “The King?” Rose nodded, running to her arms for an embrace. “He is with James and Idris now.” They held hands, ducking inside so Rose could have some wine to soothe her throat and Sarah Jane whispered to one of her handmaidens and gave her some coins. A few minutes later, one returned holding a black lace veil that hung to Rose’s waist, a daughter’s grief. Another veil she didn’t rightly deserve to mourn in, but knew it was expected of her.    
  
A Kingsguard entered removing his helm with a bow. “Prince Harold requires your attendance, my Lady.”    
  
“Go to him.” Sarah Jane kissed her cheek through the veil. “I’ll be right behind you.”    
  
Rose followed the guard, wondering if every name day she celebrated in the future would hold as much tragedy as this one and the last had. She joined Harold, taking his arm as they led the procession to the field, with King Rassilon’s body behind them, adorned in his finest armor, held aloft by a bed of shields. Somewhere, far behind them, drums began tolling a four count dirge of goodbye.    
  
  


 


	15. Chapter 15

“I’ll come back for you, one day.” James held a sleeping Thea in his arms, her head on his shoulder, as Martha dutifully secured his and Jack’s collars to their chains. “I promise you Anthea, as soon as I get home and deal with the man who fathered you, I will bring you home where you belong.” He whispered the words, swallowing past the lump in his throat as she giggled in her sleep, thumb wedged adorably between her teeth.    
  
In the three short months, James had grown to love the now walking and somewhat talking little girl as his own, and he didn’t want to let her go. He met Martha’s eyes, trying to convey he wasn’t ready yet. He couldn’t say goodbye to the only piece of his past he had left. “I’m sorry, James.” She whispered, stroking his cheek with a gentle thumb. “I’ll make sure to get their names, and memorize their faces to draw them when I get back.”    
  
“Make sure they know she loves bananas most.” He wasn’t too proud of a man to hide the pain in his voice. “And that she likes her goats milk warm with a dash of cane sugar.” James shook his head as Martha held out her arms. “And they have to keep her name. She can say it now. It’ll confuse her if they change it.”    
  
“I will.” Martha shook her hands impatiently, and James reluctantly surrendered his niece. “Come on Thea, Aunty Martha’s gotcha.” He watched with barely held back tears as they disappeared up the hold stairs. James slumped against the wall, staring up at the daylight sky.    
  
“If Rose finds out what a good father you’re gonna make, she’s going to insist on like nine kids.” Jack offered, and James knew he was trying to cheer him up. “Can you imagine nine of you running around? Sarah Jane would go gray by the third.”    
  
“Yeah, yeah.” James kicked at his blankets, pulling them to him so he could lay down. “I got a look at Jacques’ log book. Rose’s nameday was two weeks ago.” He wondered how she celebrated it? Had she let Sarah Jane host a party? She had refused last year, given the circumstances. Had it really been a year since he first kissed her? That tearful  night seemed so long ago.    
  
“You’ll be home with her soon.” Jack whispered, nudging his foot with his. James hummed at the thought. After Martha went with Jacques to deliver Thea to her temporary family, she was heading to send a message to her family, with a coded message to deliver to Peter Tyler. James had a sneaking suspicion, one Jack and now Martha since she knew agreed with, that if word reached the Castle he was alive, Harold would act as swiftly as the King did. News of their survival had to be relayed by mouth for his father’s ears only.    
  
“We should get some sleep.” James mumbled, yawning at his exhaustion from spending the night scrubbing barnacles off of the Gaslight’s bow. He had rope burns from the securing lines that had been tied around his waist, and his skin was chapped by the harsh salt of the waves. Jack was faring no better.    
  
The upside to it all was that the crew held him in higher regard now. Despite being chained up in port, since Jacques didn’t trust them not to jump ship, they no longer ate ‘scraps’, received off nights every fifth one, where they were allowed to relax, read, or join in with the crew when they anchored in a secluded cove for a swim. Twice, since the Bruntwick incident, they had been allowed to go ashore on some uninhabited islands to hunt for fruit or wild game. They weren’t free, but they didn’t feel quite like slaves either. Except for now that is.   
  
“When we get home.” Jack sighed longingly, and James chuckled under his breath as he readied himself for some crass fantasy his friend was planning. “I am going to have a bath, a good long soak. Then, I’m going to punch your brother right in that smug little smile of his.”    
  
“You’ll have to wait until I’m finished with him.” James clenched his fist as he imagined how it would feel to tell the world the truth of him, to watch him topple off of that pedestal. “One punch for every kiss he gave my Rose, and a kick in the jewels for Thea.” It was a safe fantasy, and he smiled broadly, watching the gulls fly high above the grating overhead. “Then I’m going to apologize to Rose for making her worry over me.”    
  
“Think she’ll spare me a kiss or-“ James kicked Jack though he knew he was playing. The man was a flirt, he knew, and his words were meant to rile James up for fun. “I’m kidding, believe me, I would never do more than hug her. I’ve earned that, at least, for bringing you home in one piece.”    
  
“Fine, a hug, just one.” James rolled his eyes as Jack made a pleased noise and pulled his blanket over his head. He was smiling now, a true genuine one, as he conjured up an image of Rose sneaking up to the astronomy tower at midnight, after he subtly hinted he was going to be star gazing. They had just been holding each other, as he showed her how to use his telescope, when Sarah Jane had found them and insisted on chaperoning before rumors started. That had been one of his happiest nights, and he was beyond ready to make more.    
  
He had been asleep for a few hours, he knew as the sun was directly overhead, when a hand slapped over his mouth and told him to be quiet. He flailed, as Jack sat up with a gasp, until the hand moved and he saw Martha kneeling beside them. She had been crying, was still crying.    
  
“What happened, is Thea alright?” Jack hissed, as James kicked his blankets off and sat up. Panic flooded James’ chest as she looked up at the hold grating then back into his eyes. “Martha, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”    
  
“First,” she whispered shakily, taking her bag off and sitting cross legged on the floor. James could see she had more news rhan just Thea. Martha’s eyes weren’t just sad. They were terrified. “Anthea is safe. The family are silk merchants. They already had a room for her and everything. They’re keeping her name, and they were really very lovely.”    
  
“Then why are you staring at me like you’re afraid I’m going to kill you?” James didn’t understand. Martha never looked like this, never since he met her, not even when Bruntwick had attacked her. “Martha, tell me, that’s an order.” He kept his voice low but firm.    
  
“So I have bad news and worse news.” Her words made James look to Jack who was inching closer as Martha whispered even lower. “And I don’t know how to explain either, but you have to stay quiet. Okay, just don’t shout or go off.” They both nodded as she reached up to fiddle with her ponytail. “I’ll start with the bad. I couldn’t put the code in my message.”    
  
“Why?” James hissed, trying to not give into the urge to punch the floor. That message was crucial. “What happened.”    
  
“Usually Mathew takes me to send my letters, yeah?” James nodded once, as she had told them this numerous times. “Well, he’s supposed to read them before I send them, but never does. Not his problem he claims. This time Kirshwin went with me, because he needed to send a package to his sister and her husband. He watched me writing, stood right over my shoulder. I couldn’t risk it. What if he recognized Pete’s name?”   
  
“It’s fine, there’s always the next port in Clom.” James reached over and squeezed her hand. He was angry, but not at her. She had tried, but they had discussed her doing it only if they were safe. “What’s the worse news?” She shook her head, pulling her hands away and covering her mouth. An absurd thought races into him. “Is Jacques selling us? Is that what it is?”    
  
“No, you’re staying with the crew.” Martha drew a breath, and she scooted closer to them. Her hands grabbed theirs, and James felt her trembling. “Don’t shout, don’t draw attention. Just don’t blow this. Promise me.”    
  
“Promise.” James whispered in synch with Jack, as Martha squeezed her eyes closed before opening them again. Her tears were like watching hope leave her body. “We promise.”    
  
Martha swallowed before she looked directly into him, so sorrowful, so apologetic that he could almost feel her pain in his chest. “King Rassilon died of heart attack, two weeks ago at the spring tourney.” She swiftly added. “Today is Harold’s coronation. Heard it from some Gallifreyan spice traders.”    
  
James didn’t scream. He didn’t yell. He just froze. His father was dead. Harold was King now. His lungs didn’t seem to be functioning properly, and the room turned dangerously. His father was dead. “What?” He gasped, a whisper before he drew in a desperate inhale. “No... no... he can’t be.” Now he wanted to yell. He wanted to stand up and rage. He wanted to rip the chain from his neck and jump ship. He needed to get home. He needed to get out now.    
  
This changed everything. He didn’t know what to do. Harold was King, which meant he couldn’t risk Pete’s life with the messages. Rose was in more danger now than he could ever imagine. His father was dead. “My father is dead.” James looked to Jack, needing this to be a lie. He needed to see that this was some sick joke that had concocted to tease him. Jack looked like he’d just been punched and fell against the wall.    
  
“James, you have to stay calm.” Martha’s hand was going towards her bag. “You can’t lose control. Not now, not when we are so close to freeing you.”    
  
“Don’t you get it?!” It took everything in him not to rage out, not to burn the ship down if he had to. “My father is dead. We can’t send any messages. We can’t count on a rescue. We have to escape. Unchain me!”    
  
“I can’t.” Martha shook her head, backing out of his reach. “My family, my fiancé. They’ll kill them. I still have one year left. You were willing to die for me, to make sure I got home for them. Now you want me to kill them?!”    
  
“No!” James surged to his feet, biting back his need to scream, to fight, to yank at the chain. “I don’t want anyone to die. That’s the point.” He pulled at his collar, tears of anger and fear burning his eyes. “What happened to Thea’s mother, that will happen to many more! My brother is insane! Rose...” a horrifying thought made him freeze. What if Harold changed the law? What if he insisted on marrying Rose straight away, solidify his position with a Queen and promise of heirs? “Oh gods above, Rose. Was there any news of Rose?”   
  
“No, nothing.” Martha was maintaining her distance, and James couldn’t blame her. If he looked as half mad as he felt, he would be terrified of her too.    
  
“James, you need to sit down.” Jack grabbed his pants leg tugging him. James collapsed next to him, as his oldest friend and blood sworn brother cupped his face. “We’ll get out of here. We’ll make it home before he can do irreparable damage to Gallifrey or anyone else. Just we need to act calmly. We can’t go diving into a harbor here in Skaro, okay? We need to get to Karn or San Kaloon, somewhere with allies.”    
  
“Okay! Okay! Just!” James ripped his face away and slammed his fists into the blankets. “I need to think. I need... i need...”    
  
“You need to grieve, James.” Martha folded herself back down and enveloped him in a hug. “Just take some time to grieve. I’ll light a candle for him tonight, okay?” James wrapped his arms around her, letting the touch of her friendship push away the anger so the grief could settle in properly. “I know how hard losing a father is. Just lie down. I can give you something to help you sleep.”   
  
“No.” James released her, closing his eyes and pulling to flop onto his back. “I don’t want to be numb. I’m tired of it. I want to feel.” He rolled onto his stomach, blocking his friends and the sun out, and silently mourned the loss of his father into his blankets, until sleep lured him fitfully under.    
  
“I am a bit disappointed in your father.” Rose looked up as Harold pulled her back into his arms from a gentle spin. “I mentioned amending the law so that we could marry this summer, and he didn’t like that idea.”    
  
“You didn’t think to ask me first, Your Grace?” Rose teased, as she reached up to straighten his crown with a finger before resting her hand on his shoulder. Honestly, be it his smaller coronet or the heavier one his father wore, he always managed to knock it askew. “I think, as your betrothed, I should get some say so in the matter.” She giggled as he lifted her by the waist for a twirl of her skirts. She knew all eyes were on them, as it was his coronation ball.    
  
“Well, I thought you would be amendable to the idea.” Harry set her down, taking her hands to turn her back to him as they danced. “Or does the idea of being Queen scare you now that it’s a reality?”    
  
“Maybe I don’t think I’m ready.” Rose couldn’t lie. The idea of finally marrying him was wonderful, but she still had so much to learn. There would be no time to train, as a princess would, no time to establish herself among the people as an eventual ruler. If they married, she was named Queen that day, and the Queen had more responsibilities than people imagined. “Sarah Jane has stepped up my studies, but I still have about fifty law books to read, perfect managing the seasonal staff, pick what causes will be my main focuses on supporting in the kingdom, and.” She felt her cheeks flush as he pulled her back around to face him. “I’m not ready to even think about being a mum.”    
  
“Oh, that wouldn’t be for a few years!” Harold laughed at her words, leaning down to kiss her nose. “I am not even remotely ready to be a father.” Rose relaxed at his words. It had been something that had been worrying her. Child birth was a scary thing, after all, his mother had died bringing him into the world. “You really don’t want to move the wedding up? I can do it. I am King.”    
  
“Really, you’re King?” Rose gasped in feigned shock as the music ended and she curtsied. “I hadn’t noticed.” She squealed in delight as Harold grabbed her by the waist and half hauled her off of the dance floor to the table lined with food meant only for them. It was closely guarded by two of his men, and each item had been tasted as soon as it was delivered. He insisted she only eat from his table. “That was more princely than kingly.”    
  
“Keep up that sass, Lady Tyler, and I’ll show you how much of a King I am.” Harold gave her a look that said his words implied something more enjoyable than three days in the stocks, and she scooped up a goblet of wine to hide her blush. “Your innocence is so adorable sometimes.” She let him pull her into his chest, as they observed the dancers. Her parents were waltzing nearby, while some of her handmaidens were entertaining little Tony on the other side of the room. Her brother was indeed blonde, with hazel eyes like her father. At least her family name would carry on.    
  
“And your loose tongue, my King, says you need to move to tea or water.” Rose arched an eyebrow at his fourth goblet of wine since dinner. She realized she still hadn’t answered his question, and she sighed a bit in contentment. “But no, I’m not ready. You aren’t angry, are you?”    
  
“Rose Tyler, look at me.” Harold’s voice was inviting, and she met his smiling eyes as he leaned down to kiss her lips with a publicly appropriate brush. “No, I’m not angry. I did promise to be patient with you. I just would rather have you bearing my name and sitting at my side now.”    
  
“A year, love. It’s not that long.” Rose sipped her wine again. A year could change a lot of things. Maybe in a year she would be ready to let him take her to bed. She still hadn’t felt it, not really. The desire didn’t stay with her when his lips left, not like it had with James. He had been in her mind a lot lately, as Rassilon’s death had opened the aching wound anew. It didn’t hurt as much, but it still caught her off guard.    
  
“Fifty weeks.” Harold’s whisper drew her eyes back up to his, as he took her goblet to set it aside and clasped her hand to tug her to the garden doors. “Because I am marrying you exactly one day after you turn eighteen, and that’s final.”    
  
“I wasn’t going to object.” Rose grinned, watching as Sarah Jane began picking her way towards them, falling in with the guards who took up post at the entrance to the paths. They were allowed a bit more freedom now that he was king and she was seventeen, but not enough to question her honor. “Your guests will be disappointed we left.” She teased, as he pulled her into the shadow of a tree. She knew what was coming, because they hadn’t been alone once today.    
  
“Sod the guests. I missed you today.” Harold sighed, as his hands ghosted down the bodice of her dress. He did enjoy toeing the lines, edging near impropriety as much as she would allow. Rose wasn’t ashamed to admit she did enjoy it, especially when she was buzzing high on wine, and now that she was nearing towards full womanhood, her tutors had begun to explain past the basics of what a marital bed entailed.    
  
“We’ll be missing each other a lot more, now that you’ve got a Kingdom to run.” She slid her fingers up his chest to stroke his face. He caught one with his teeth, making her shiver as he stepped in closer. Her heart was racing in anticipation, as he pressed her back against the bark. She hadn’t asked why he was so obsessed with always having her pinned against something, but since he always released her when asked Rose wasn’t afraid. “Are you going to keep staring or kiss me?”    
  
“Shut up.” He growled, pressing into her as he lips consumed hers with voracity. Rose moved her arms around to fist his heavy, velvet cloak, drawing him in closer. She didn’t have to struggle to keep up anymore, no racing to match his pace. Now that she was comfortable discussing the different aspects of what physical relationships included, she decided to give one of her lessons a try.    
  
Sliding her hands back to his chest, she grabbed his coat and pushed him back, never breaking the desperate way he was claiming her lips and her tongue. He made a confused noise, but she mimicked his growl and turned to push him into the tree.  She grinned at him, as he pulled away, making a show of licking her lips. “I’m learning.” She snickered, but his eyebrows narrowed and his lip pulled up in a smirk.    
  
“Not fast enough.” He seized her wrists, pulling them away, and suddenly she was against the tree again, with her arms pressed against the bark. She gasped in shock, as he completely erased any space between them, as much as her billowing skirts would allow. “Oh Rose, my sweet innocent Blossom. You are determined to make this year unbearable.”    
  
“Fifty weeks.” She purred, biting her lip as Harold lowered his face to hers again. There was something different in his eyes, something powerful, something that said she had toed a line that delighted him to no end. It made her preen. Rose liked the feeling it gave her, knowing she could please him without risking her virtue. “I’ll know so much more by then.”    
  
“Still not nearly enough.” She inhaled sharply as he paused near her lips, and she wriggled her wrists in his fingers. He didn’t release them, but his grip relaxed, and then his lips moved further down, laving an open mouth kiss to the skin exposed just above the swell where her cleavage teased from her bodice. Then he released her arms, bringing his head up, and Rose barely had time to process the jolt of excitement the touch had sent straight down her spine, his hands were cupping her neck, lips demanding domination over hers. She groaned, biting at his lower lip with a sudden yearning she had forgotten she could feel, when the sound of a throat clearing made her pull away.    
  
“Your Grace, I’m sorry to interrupt, but if you stay out here much longer, Lady Rose’s honor may be...” Sarah Jane’s voice as she trailed said she wasn’t exactly watching, and when Rose peeked around him, she couldn’t see her on the path. She must have stopped just out of sight.    
  
“Can’t have my future Queen’s honor questioned!” Harold called over his shoulder, but he didn’t release her. Rose giggled as he slid his hands down her waist and turned back to kiss her once more, this time closed lipped and hard. “Although it wouldn’t be questioned if we got married right now...” Rose didn’t even need to wonder about the intent of his words. The husky sound, the wildfire in his eyes, and the unmistakable way he gave one determined rock against her skirts, which she couldn’t feel said enough.    
  
“Let me pass Harry.” Rose couldn’t stop the way her stomach flipped though. He moved back with a flourished bow, and she looked back over his shoulder as he turned away from them for a moment, probably to compose himself. She found Sarah Jane just up the path, standing under a pair of lanterns suspended on poles, and the woman looked her over with a critical eye. She knew she looked fine. One thing her husband to be was always sure of, was that she never had any marks or sighs that his lips or hands went anywhere other than expected. “Presentable?” She queried, turning to let Sarah Jane check her back for dirt or pieces of bark.    
  
“Hang on.” Sarah Jane reached up to smooth her hair, and then smiled. There was a pause between them for a moment, before Sarah Jane touched her cheek. “You look just like a woman in love who went for a midnight stroll. That’s always presentable.”    
  
“There wasn’t much strolling.” Rose giggled, as she looped her arm through her friend’s, and Sarah Jane made a shocked noise, smacking her hand gently. “He started it.” She looked back, finding Harold coming up the walk to pause near his guards. They nodded, and one disappeared. “What is he up to?”    
  
“Probably planning his next attempt to get you alone and misbehaving.” Sarah Jane tugged her inside, and Rose finally had the decency to blush as her head cleared of being in his arms. She only had time to retrieve her goblet for three swallows, before her Father stole her away for a dance. Then Wilfred, Harold’s grandfather wanted one, and then her father had her twirling again.  It felt so good to be happy, to shake off the gloom the last two weeks had brought in, that she didn’t notice it was nearly an hour and a half before Harold stole her away from her parents for a dance. He looked unbelievably happy as she came into his arms. 

Rose did notice that his crown was crooked again, and he had spilled something red, maybe wine or that delicious sauce on his sleeve. Rose rolled her eyes at him, reaching up to straighten the gold and obsidian symbol of his throne, and hummed in delight as she tasted wine on his lips before he twirled her under his arm. “I love you.” He grinned. 

“Love you too.” Rose laughed, and she bit her lip in delight when her words made his smile broaden more.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See tags for trigger warnings

“Hannah.” Rose followed her favorite handmaiden as she dashed away from where she had just finished cinching up her dress. The woman was only a year or two older than her, pretty as a painting, with curly raven hair, rich black eyes, and skin the color of creamed coffee. She used to be quick with a song or eager to share gossip, and was working at the castle to save money to open her own inn.    
  
The last two and a half months, the woman had changed. It had started the day after the coronation, with her wearing long sleeves despite the growing summer heat, mumbled words, and no joy in her eyes. Rose had asked her, many times, what was wrong, even questioned some of her other handmaidens, but they had no explanation. Now she found Hannah clinging to a chamber pot, retching the remnants of their breakfast with strangled sobs. “Hannah, sweetie, if you’re ill, you should rest.” The woman gave another sob. Rose grabbed the cloth she had used to wash her own face from the bowl beneath the mirror, and crouched beside her, rubbing the woman’s back soothingly.    
  
“She’s not ill, mi’lady.” Bernice, one of her other ones whispered from the door. Rose looked back at at her, as Hannah’s protest to be quiet was interrupted by another round of vomiting. Bernice squeezed her lips shut, but mimed a round belly before fleeing the room.    
  
Rose squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, heaving a sigh as Hannah pulled away, then she opened them again and gently began wiping her mouth. “Hannah, you know the rules of being a handmaiden. You have to stay a maiden.” She didn’t raise or voice or let her disappointment show. Honestly, the rules were stupid in her opinion, but if the betrothed of the King kept company with women deemed unvirtuous, she faced being judged as well. “How far along?”’   
  
“Two and a half months.” Hannah turned her face away, looking down. Tears were streaming heavily down her cheeks. “But I didn’t... mi’lady. I swear, I didn’t break my vows.” Her terrified voice and the way she curled in on herself as she moved away and clutched at her dress spoke volumes.    
  
“When were you attacked, Hannah. Tell me.” Rose set the rag aside, anger, disgust, and a protective growl was building inside of her. “Tell me, and I’ll make sure he is brought to justice.” Hannah shook her head, scrambling to her feet, but Rose grabbed her arm as she moved up herself. “Hannah, was it the night of the Coronation? It was, wasn’t it?” The pleading in those terrified eyes answered the question. With her being that scared, it meant it was someone still in the castle, someone who could hurt her. “Was it one of the guards, one of the staff?” Still no answer except a whimper as her eyes cast down. “Come with me.”    
  
Rose draped an arm over her shoulder, leading her back into the bedroom. The three handmaidens were all watching with terrified expressions. “I’m taking Hannah with me. If anyone else has been touched, tell me now.” She watched as they exchanged looks of hesitation, before they all shook their heads. “Good, I’m handling this, and you shouldn’t have to worry anymore. This should have been brought to me immediately. Don’t you trust me?”    
  
“Yes, mi’lady.” They all chimed, and Rose sighed. Obviously they didn’t, but they would now.    
  
“Come along Hannah.” Rose didn’t release the woman, guiding her out the door, down the stairs, through the inner courtyard, up the stairs to the balcony and squared herself in front of the guards. “I need to speak with the King.”    
  
“He specified not to be disturbed as he reviews the weekly border reports.” The one on the left spoke. He was new, as Rose didn’t recognize him. Harold had hired many new guards, as his father’s men had retired since their service was done, and she wasn’t sure she liked a few of them.    
  
“Tell him if he wants my company at his dinner table, he’ll see me.” Rose pulled her most stern face, and the guard huffed as he turned to open the door. There was muffled talking before he returned, and the door was held open for them to pass.    
  
“Rose, dear, you know I love you, but I’m working.” His eyes lifted up, and his face fell into a frown as he took her and Hannah in. “What’s wrong?” He laid down the parchment in his hand, standing up to come around his desk. Hannah whimpered, hiding her face. “Why is your handmaiden so upset?”    
  
“She was raped, Harry. The night of your coronation.” Rose tucked Hannah into her chest, stroking her curls. “She’s pregnant, and I’m assuming the man responsible is here in the castle. She is absolutely terrified.” Harold leaned against his desk, dragging his hands down his face. She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure and not scream at him to do something.    
  
“Did she say who it was?” He finally asked, pushing away to approach them. Rose shook her head, as he tsked under his breath. “Hannah, look at me.” She whimpered, clinging to her, and Rose sighed in exasperation. The woman could trust Harold. He would put an end to this himself. Rose knew that, had seen it first hand, sometimes still had nightmares of the blood. “As your King I command you to look at me.” Hannah finally pulled her face away, looking up at him. “Do you remember who did it?”    
  
“Yes, Your Grace.” Hannah whispered, falling to her knees. “But if I say, he’ll murder my mother and sister. He said they are being watched, and... and..” she broke into a racking sob again.    
  
Harold’s eyes met Rose’s, and they were full of disappointment. “I’ll see to it that a guard checks on your family, and I’ll have all my new guards brought in for a meeting. I will know who was responsible Hannah. I will handle this as any King would.” There was a lethality in his voice Rose had never heard, and she knew that the culprit would be found. “For now, Hannah dear, go the healer wing and see Patrick. He knows ways to end the pregnancy.” Rose jerked at the words, surprised that he would say something like that so smoothly, so calmly, but Hannah scrambled to her feet and was gone in a flash. Rose arched an eyebrow at Harold, who sighed and pulled her into a hug, kissing her brow. “I know she’s your favorite, love. I don’t want her to leave since she didn’t break her vows willingly.”    
  
“How do you know Patrick is knowledgeable on terminating pregnancies?” Rose pulled out of his arms, disbelief and betrayal rising in her chest. She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “Harold, have you ever...” she let her voice trail off implying without asking if he had ever taken a woman to bed. Men weren’t exactly held to the same standards, but some things were supposed to be disclosed, mandated actually, before a proposal of marriage.    
  
“Yes.” Harold’s voice was soft but heavy with guilt as he turned away from her and looked down. Rose felt his answer like a stab to her own gut. “I was seventeen and stupid, drunk on my first tournament victory and meade.” She didn’t interrupt, as he sighed, moving to lean against his desk again and remove his crown. “She was a knight’s daughter, and she came to me a month later. James overheard, and he told us about Patrick. Then I paid her one hundred coins to keep quiet.”    
  
Rose felt her stomach drop at James’ name. How would he have known? Unless, had he done the same? “Was it when he was engaged to me? Have you made love to any other woman since you came home?!”  The words were coming out against her control, and she felt her hands begin to tremble.    
  
“Please don’t ask me to speak ill on brother.” Harold’s voice was raw as he shook his head, as he tossed his crown onto the desk and ran his hands along his hair. “He isn’t here to explain himself. He’s dead. What good will it be to know?” Rose opened her mouth to speak again, clenching her fists to keep from striking out at him. “But no, I haven’t made love to any woman since the night with her.”    
  
“You’re lying!” Rose couldn’t believe it. She shook her head, the pain of the betrayal, of both of them keeping this from her burned her chest. “Look me in the eye and swear to me. Swear on my life that you aren’t, or I’m leaving, for good.” His eyes snapped up to hers, full of shock and fear. She knew he knew she could break the engagement off on this information alone, because it called into question his fidelity to her honor.    
  
He surged towards her, grabbing her hands. Rose flinched back, until he gasped and insisted with fervent honesty. “I will never lie to you, Rose. I swear on your life. If I wanted to lie, why would I confess?” Harold released her hands to cup her face, those intense blue irises wide and pleading. “I could have said it was knowledge in case of incidents like this, or that I overheard it. Instead, I told you the truth!” Rose felt trapped by his gaze, by the way he was practically begging her to believe him. She knew what honesty looked like. “Forgive me for not disclosing it in the beginning. I promise I haven’t made love to anyone else, and I won’t! Rose, forgive me.”    
  
Rose swallowed, blinking back the tears at the events her morning had turned. First Hannah, and now finding out the two men she loved had hidden secrets away. The only way James could have known, would have any wondered about the knowledge, was if he had done the same as Harold. She didn’t need Harry to confirm that for her. She was seventeen, not stupid. Harold’s face was crumbling at her silence, and he ripped away from her to cover his face. She knew he wasn’t lying, could see it in the defeated way he leaned his hands on his desk, his head hanging. He had confessed, willingly, without reservation. “I forgive you.” She managed to stutter, wiping her cheeks. He spun around, face hopeful but also hesitant. “But you have to make this up to me.”    
  
“Anything, Rose.” Harry moved towards her again, and she let him take her hands again. However, when he tried to kiss her, she had to turn her lips away so it landed on her cheek. The knowledge still hurt far too much. “Go to Hannah.” He sighed, if realizing she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him that much.    
  
“I love you.” Rose touched his chest as he moved away, feeling, as she knew she would, the shield charm under his shirt. He never took it off. “And thank you, for Hannah...”    
  
“You’re welcome.” Harold offered her a loving smile, and Rose returned it. She slipped from the room, heading to the healer’s wing. She needed to be with Hannah. Her parents had taught her that good leaders cared about their people, no matter the station. Hannah was in her care, and she had already failed to protect her once. She wasn’t going to let her suffer alone.    
  
When she reached the room, Hannah was tucked into a cot with a mug in her hand. The woman looked at her, and Rose could see there was still terror there. She crossed to her, perching on the edge. “Hannah, you’re going to be safe. The King will protect you, and your family.”    
  
“You don’t understand.” Hannah shook her head, biting her lip as if she wanted to say more. Then she raised the mug again and greedily chugged the liquid down. Rose tried to touch her arm, but she cringed away. “You’ll just make it worse, mi’lady. I can’t stay here. I can’t face him.” Her once so vibrant eyes looked utterly dead. “I want to go home.”    
  
Rose knew that was her way of asking to quit her duties, and she sighed. “Once the medicine works, I’ll see to it you can.” She couldn’t blame Hannah, couldn’t fault her for wanting to leave. She made a mental note to ask Harold tonight about how she could fix this in some way, make up for Hannah being hurt in her home. All she could do now was hold Hannah’s hand until it was all over.    
  
“Get below deck!” James shouted at Martha over the howl of the wind. “Now! That’s an order!” He stumbled as the ship rocked dangerously, thankful he had secured himself to the the ships wheel base with a heavy rope. Every part of him ached, after hours of struggling against the storm. The waves crested over the bow, surging water along the deck. He had taken the wheel after Jacques had been whacked in the head by a snapped line.   
  
“No! Not until you and Jack are too!” Martha screamed back, ducking as a lantern ripped from it’s ring flew by. Even though it was noon, the sea and sky around them were as dark as early twilight. Jack and three other men had secured themselves to the mast, and were slowly climbing it in an attempt to grab the ropes for the sails. They had come loose in spots almost an hour ago, and if they didn’t get it down, the mast may snap.    
  
“What about the wounded men below?!” James grunted as the wheel jerked, but he held it steady. He had already watched one man get his leg broken as the barrel for the deck water had toppled and rolled into him, and another had fallen and broken an arm. “Go down now!”    
  
“I hate you sometimes!” Martha clung to the rope securing her to the rail. “Don’t die James!” She untied it, sank to her rear, and began pulling her thin body down the stairs to avoid being blown overboard.    
  
James gritted his teeth, as every muscle in his body screamed at him to follow. He couldn’t. He had to fight to keep the ship straight. Thirty lives of the crew were depending on him, plus all of Gallifrey. He refused to die like this, refused to let the storm take them down. Looking up, he watched as the four men began grabbing for the flailing lines, and he pushed hard to the left as the wheel wanted to go right.    
  
Then, a whoop echoed, and he saw Jack and another man secured the ends of the main sail. The other two began fighting to manually pull it closed, and James shouted wordless encouragement. It seemed like hours, though he knew it wasn’t, but with a gap in the wind, the sail crumbled to the beam, and all four men began tying it down. He didn’t let the small triumph relax him, knowing the respite would be fleeting.    
  
They were halfway to the deck when they were caught in the wind again, and James had to brace himself against the wheel to keep it from losing control. “Get below!” He ordered, choking on the mixture of salt spray and stinging rain water. “Now!”    
  
“No!” Jack was untying himself, staggering, tripping and falling. “Marcus, Polond, to the wheel. Jermaine, get down to the crew!” wanted to kick him, but his feet needed to stay planted, the wet wood cold and slick under his skin. Then they were there, tying their ropes along side his. Jack grabbed two handles on his right, Marcus grabbing two on his left, and Polond standing across, grabbing the same ones as James.    
  
Their combined strength was a relief, but the they still struggled to keep the wheel steady. James blinked at the storm, trying to make sense of north from east. He couldn’t see anything past the bow, and the waves were getting worse. They were getting larger, but starting to move in unison instead of chaos. “The waves!” He bellowed, as he realized what was going on.    
  
“To the port side!” Polond screeched, and everyone heaved the wheel. There wasn’t much they could do, as the sea was fighting the rudders. The ship banked minutely, and they fought harder, trying to get in line with the waves instead of angled into them. Waves crashed up from behind them, blinding them in its wash. James almost slipped, but he forced himself balanced. Then lightning flashed, and he saw what everyone was fearing.    
  
“Land!” He roared, bracing himself on the wheel as the waves grew more defined, stronger, lifting up the aft of the ship up and surging it forward. “Brace yourselves!” Like they needed warning. Again they we forced forward, as thunder crashed in their ears. Through the rain, the hazy froth of the waves crashing against a wooded shore grew more defined. “Pray we miss sandbars!”    
  
“Knock on wood!” Jack howled, laughing like he had just made the best joke in the world. James growled, as the rudder dragged and whipped the wheel in jerked motions. “Why didn’t anyone knock on damn-“ his words were cut off by a shout as the ship was lifted and pushed forward again.    
  
“Hit the deck!” James ordered, lunging away from the wheel as the shore loomed ahead. He clung to his line as it dug into his waist, the waves making him strangle as they engulfed them. There was a terrifying crunching noise, as the ship rocked forward a final time, and tilted dangerously to the side. “We have to get her steady! Get the crew!”    
  
The ship was rocking still, but seemed securely grounded in the shallow water. They had to keep her from being toppled or worse. Untying himself, James struggled against the wind to get down and drop the main anchor. The wench was  slick and his exhausted muscles protested as he tried to turn it. It seemed those below deck had heard and felt them run aground, those fit to work were pouring onto the deck. Two joined him, and they managed to drop the anchor.    
  
Things became a blur of rain, wind, panic, automatic functioning. Boats were being lowered into the dangerous water, half rowed half wave tossed to secure stabilizing lines to rocks and trees on shore. James didn’t think, he just moved. The maelstrom seemed never ending, as they labored, and the only thing that frightened them into freezing and scattering is when a nasty, whipping, burning gust of wind caught straight across the deck, and the mast began to crack.    
  
“Move!” James tackled Jack away, taking his best friend to the deck as the long tower of wood came crashing down, knocking half of the railing away, and splintering the deck at the bow. When the sound of squealing wood ended, James looked up to find, in relief, that it hadn’t gone all the way through. There was nothing to be done now. Every possible rope and chain were being used to keep the Gaslight stationary and upright.    
  
He stared up at the gray clouds, when Jack pushed him off, gasping as his body refused to even roll over. All they could do was wait for the storm to pass, assess the damage, and hope that they could fix it. James didn’t know where they were, nut they had been leagues and leagues from any main country. This was, no doubt, an island.   
  


 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Sorry folks

James huffed as he, Jack, and Marcus dropped the heavy log they were carrying in the clearing that had been set up as a make shift carpentry hub. He stretched, shaking his strained arms as he breathed in. The Gaslight wasn’t wrecked, but she wasn’t sea worthy either.    
  
The portion of the hull that would be underwater had escaped damage, but planks had come loose on the upper parts. The mast had crushed part of the deck at the bow, and both needed to be replaced. Railings had to be made, and the rudder had split in two. The sail had some tears that needed mending as well. It would have been only a couple of weeks worth of work, if all thirty crewmen were whole. Yet, ten of them were wounded.    
  
There were broken arms and legs, cracked skulls, a missing eye, and cracked ribs. One man had died when a piece of the cracked mast had impaled his gut. Those injured, who were capable of walking but not hacking down trees and shaping wood, were in charge of fetching water from a cave spring not far inland, hunting, fishing, and gathering anything edible from the massive forest. Martha became a sort of overseer, regulating schedules, rationing food, and generally just keeping everything running when Jacques wasn’t around. According to Jacques and Polland, who had been a shipwright before he took up smuggling, said it would take a month at the least. Two if any more storms blew in.    
  
“Get some water.” Jack nudged him towards the bucket and James went gladly. “You’re killing yourself. Did you even break when Martha told you to?” James shook his head as he ladled himself a cup full of water to chug. “Well dying of heatstroke isn’t how you’re going out so sit.”    
  
“No, the sooner we get all the wood, the sooner it gets made into parts.” James filled one more cup before splashing his face and heading back towards where Jermaine and Marcus were evaluating which tree would serve best as a mast. He couldn’t wait two months to get off this damned island. Not to mention if they put in extra labor, it would impress Jacques. Impressing Jacques meant the possibility of being allowed on shore when they made the next main port. That would allow for their escape.    
  
Martha still adamantly refused to go with them, but that was fine. James would order her family placed under royal guard, and, since he knew everywhere Jacques stopped, all the aliases he used at port, he would have the ship boarded and her rescued. It was all so clear in his mind. A lot of things were becoming more clear. Every day was a risk, each moment a possible step closer to losing everything.    
  
The two weeks already spent on the island was driving him to madness. Yes, he had been prisoner on a ship for over a year, but at least they had been moving. Here it felt like he was in a prison. They were surrounded on all sides by water, and their only way off was to repair the ship that meant being enslaved.   
  
Getting home had been a plan before, but now it was a necessity. The longer he spent away, the more he forgot things. James couldn’t remember the sound of Rose’s laugh anymore. He could remember how it made him feel, but not the tone. How the stables used to smell when freshly shoveled and strawed had long since faded. The well worn grooves on the arms of his throne were absent, and the sight of the first snow on the town was only a hazy dream.    
  
The things that refused to leave was the image of Rose dancing with Harold her first night at the castle, his brother sitting at the low council with an all too confident smirk, and the imagined picture of him sitting in Rassilon’s throne. Hope no longer fueled James, only the burning desire to save everyone and everything he loved. Pick up an axe. Swing into the tree. Yank the blade free, and repeat. This was a battle, not of swords, not of plots and armistices, but of sheer defiance to the gods he no longer believed in. He believed in one person, one alone, and that was Rose. No doubt she had become privvy to Harold’s sickness by now, and he knew she would be doing all she could to stop it.    
  
James didn’t know how, couldn’t even begin to imagine her methods, but she would. Rose had been born to be his queen, and she wouldn’t let their lands be destroyed. So he yelled as the tree fell, slamming his axe into the stump, and lifted as two men joined him. He would be a slave for now, but when the time came he would break his chains and those he knew Harold was tightly, but subtly, binding up his kingdom with.    
  
  
Rose reached one hand up to fidget with the black silk scarf tied over her eyes. The other clung tightly to Harold’s left arm, as Thanatos clopped his way down through the city. She had been called from her morning tea to meet him at the main doors, where he had promptly blindfolded her. “Can I look now?” She queried, anxious to see where they were headed.     
  
“No.” Harold gently tapped her hand away, before lacing the reins in his hand again. He chuckled, and she let her own fall back to the saddle. “I told you. It’s a surprise.”    
  
Rose knew this wouldn’t be just any surprise. Since their quarrel, and Hannah’s immediate departure a month before, Harry had been trying his utmost to get back into Rose’s good graces. First there had been a mated pair of golden hawks. Then he had hung three of her paintings in the visitors’ library. After that, she had been treated to a private dinner in the garden just for them, and interspersed had been some new trinkets for her jewelry box. While she appreciated his efforts, such materialistic things didn’t show he was actually compunctious.   
  
She had spoken a word of their argument to anyone, and Rose knew Harold hadn’t either. He had nowhere to turn but her to find an adequate way to earn her trust back. I couldn’t be bought with such trivial things. Her parents hadn’t raised her to be shallow hearted. She needed something more solid, something that showed truly loved her, truly valued her opinions. Rose needed to know that he cared.    
  
Thanatos slowed to a stop, and Rose could hear their escorts dismounting. “Now?” She asked, raising her hand again, but before she could take the scarf off pair of gloved hands seized her waist. Rose clung to them blindly, as they pulled her gently down to the ground. Then Harold’s hands were taking hers, pulling Rose forward.    
  
“Mind the steps.” He cautioned, and rose felt carefully with her feet as she climbed up the five steps. She thought the solid wood under her flat shoes, and the sounds of doors opening had her mind whirring. She had no idea where they could be or what the surprise was. No, she let him pull her inside. The smell of fresh saw dust and wood stain overwhelmed her senses. She was about to ask if she could look, when he moved behind her and untied the scarf. “Now.”    
  
Rose blinked as her eyes adjusted to the daylight streaming in through the window. Standing in front of a plain wooden staircase, that rose up from the center of a hallway. You were left was an unfilled door frame that revealed a massive kitchen, and to the right was a room with shelves along the walls, fireplace, and what looks like three half built bookshelves. “Where are we?” She gasped, as she spotted a pair of closed doors just behind the stairs. Not looking back, she moved towards them.    
  
“At the last council meeting you sat in on.” It was trailing behind her, as Rose push the doors open to find a not quite finished room that was for the builders tools, another fireplace, and what look unassembled wooden beds. “You expressed concerns that the orphans in the city and surrounding lands weren’t being properly cared for.”    
  
Rose spun to face him, as he watched her with a hesitant smile. “Harry, is this orphanage?” She couldn’t help but stare at him as shock and love at his gesture waved over her. “ I thought you were reviewing the trade reports. You were listening?” That meeting had been just before Hannah’s leaving. She was shocked he remembered something that hadn’t been fully regarded since she wasn’t Queen yet.    
  
“Of course I was listening.“ he took her hand gently, guiding her out of the room and led back to the stairs. Rose followed in stunned silence, unable to tear her eyes away from the excited smile he was flashing now. “ it’s also a school. Do your friends live here will be taught to read and write, and will be offered opportunities to apprentice in the city once they’re old enough.” He pointed up the stairs, and Rose followed his finger. “There will be two dormitories, one for boys, one for girls. Each will have fifteen bunkbeds.” Those blue eyes met hers, and Rose felt all of her doubt in his value of her disappear. Unable to deny him any longer, she cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to hers.    
  
Harold took her into his arms with a satisfied hum, stroking her cheek and then neck gently. The kiss was soft, like their first, hesitant as if he wasn’t sure she meant it. Rose pulled away to smile at him. “Who is funding it?” Something like this would need a steady stream of income to support thirty or more children and caretakers.    
  
“ The council has agreed to tax imported silk an additional one percent to cover it.” Harold cupped her face, trailing his thumb along her lower lip, making her shiver in delight at the intimate touch. “And I expect you here at least once a week, when it is finished. I want you to make sure it’s being run how you think it should be run.”    
  
“ I was going to be here regardless.” Rose laughed. All of the lingering bitterness from their conversation was gone. She could see it, feel it in his touch. Harold actually wanted her, loved her, valued her opinions on how their country should be run. “Are you pleased?”    
  
“Am I pleased?” Rose caught the eye of the guard that had followed them in and signaled for him to turn his back. Once he was facing the door, she took Harold’s hands and moved them to her waist. Then she began to walk backwards towards the wall. “Kiss me, your Grace, and find out?”    
  
Harold’s eyes blazed as he pressed against her. Then his lips were on hers, frantic, as if starved from the month of getting nothing but chaste brushes. He groaned, a throaty way, and she wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him in, yielding to him. When he finally pulled apart, as the duties of their kingdom called, Rose felt breathless and light headed. The ride back to the castle, with his arm around her waist and his thumb drawing circles on her stomach drew her attention to the slight warmth blossoming in her chest. It wasn’t strong, like it had been for James, but it was there.    
  
  


 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose gets a taste of Harold’s hidden side.  
> James finds companionship in a bath house in Skaro....

Rose stared down at the three elegantly colored pieces of parchment before her. She sighed, unable to decide which she wanted. They were a heavy reminded that this was the last winter she would face as a single woman. They had come all the way from her mother in Powell, along with twelve more, each shaded or painted with her mother’s noticeable touch. They were wedding dresses. It was five months until her name day, until her wedding, until she became Queen, and it was closing in.   
  
The plans were well underway, invitations sent last week to each Lord and Lady, foreign allies, and valued friends. It would take place on the last day of the Spring Tournament, and she was overwhelmed. If Harold was still prince, then the ceremony would have been large but nowhere near this.   
  
The ceremony would take place mid afternoon, in full view of the public. After that, she would be coronated by Harold. From there, they would be taken in open carriage through the city to the palace for the wedding feast and subsequent ball. Celebrations would take place in the city, as a fair was being brought in, all businesses except inns, taverns, and healers would be closed, and a separate feast would be hosted in the city square. After that, she and Harold would be secluded into the Royal wing of the castle for two days. Nobody except staff to bring them food, drink, and change out the baths would be allowed to disturb them. It was a thrilling, but nerve wracking thought.   
  
“He’ll like this one best.” Sarah Jane offered, from where she was looking at samples of material for her handmaidens gowns. She tapped the one in the middle, and Rose stared at it. It was beautiful, and she had found her eyes drawn to it the most already. He always preferred when her skirts weren’t as cumbersome, because then he could hold her closer. “And with the spring breeze it will flow very beautifully.”   
  
“See, this is why I love you.” Rose smiled, setting the parchment aside with the designs for the handmaidens dresses. “Just wish Mum were here, but this storm came right down from Powell. They’ll be snowed in for a while.” She missed her parents, but Sarah Jane had stepped into the role of helping Rose plan as soon as she asked.   
  
“They are her designs. So she is here.” Sarah Jane smiled, holding up some pale pink silk. “How about this, for your girls?” Rose took it, letting the soft material flow through her fingers.   
  
It made her think of the orphanage in the city, which had been finished just before the brutal cold had set in. The building was full now, and they’d had to bring in twenty additional beds. Harold had promised to allow an expansion once winter passed, to accommodate them all. Rose was happy to know that the children were somewhere warm and safe, being fed and cared for by the staff she had been allowed to handpick.   
  
“I love it.” Rose smiled, passing it back. She reached over to pick up her mug of coco, sighing a bit as she drew up a foggy memory of a blizzard engulfing the shadows and a brief cuddle in the library two years before. Had it really been so long? She didn’t cry anymore about it. Hadn’t for a while, especially since Harold had hinted that James may not have been as perfect as she remembered. “Do you remember how Harry and James used to bicker?”   
  
“You had a year of it Rose.” Sarah Jane chuckled lightly, setting the material aside and movingly to sit beside her on the cushions. Rose preferred planning on the floor, where she could be close to the fire and the table. “I had twenty one years of it. I miss it more than I care to admit.”   
  
“Me too.” Rose sipped her drink slowly, savoring the spice of the rum on her tongue. “Sometimes I swear they wanted to kill each other, but then they would do something like finish the other’s sentence and laugh.”   
  
“They were as opposite as day and night, but when someone or something threatened the other, they were a force to be reckoned with.” Sarah Jane’s words recalled the attempt on Rassilon’s life to Rose’s mind. Some memories, like that one, would never fade. She could see them behind her eyelids, back to back, moving as if they knew the other’s every thought. “As adults they grew apart, but gods, when they were little they drove the castle mad.”   
  
“How?” Rose opened her eyes, perking up. Sarah Jane didn’t often tell stories about the brothers’ childhood, and rarely ones with them together. It was always a James or Harold story. She turned to face the woman, who was smiling and staring at the fireplace.   
  
“Harold always had a thing for catching and bringing home strays and animals from the forest. One time, he caught a snake. It wasn’t venomous mind you, but as long as my arm.” Sarah Jane shook her head, eyes soft and amused as she continued. “James convinced him to sneak it into a tray of food for one of Rassilon’s council meetings. I caught them laughing outside the door, heard the ruckus, and got them back to their lessons before Rassilon could figure out who did it.”   
  
“I bet that was a sight!” Rose had to laugh at the image of her sneaking them back to the library while all hell broke lose. Her laughter faded as she remembered another moment of them in the library, one she had forgotten, that killed her humor in her throat. She swallowed, as she realized that most of the times they had bickered after she came was over something she had done or said. It stabbed her in the chest. “Sarah Jane, can I ask you something?” She nodded, her kind eyes turning on her. “Did they start to bicker more after I came here?”   
  
Sarah Jane sighed, her smile falling to a frown. “Just before actually. I was hoping you wouldn’t have noticed.” Rose arched an eyebrow, taking another drink to ease the tightness in her chest. “James was a bit jealous, I think, that you were already closer to Harry in your letters. He had no reason to be, because I knew the moment you two met that night of the ball that you were going to be head over heels for each other. How did you know?”   
  
“I overheard them arguing about me once. James was telling him to keep his distance. I promised him that I didn’t feel that way about Harry.” Rose ran her thumb along the rim of her cup. “But now I do. Did Harry, I mean, do you think he was in love with me then?” Harold had said the words first, only three months into their engagement. It had taken Rose so much longer to feel the same, and now she wondered if she had hurt him.   
  
“Yes, which is why James was jealous. He loved you too. Waiting for you to turn sixteen so he wouldn’t feel so awkward about it was torture for him. He used to ask me at least once a week if you had said anything to me about being unhappy he was waiting.” Rose smiled, imagining James worrying about her. He had always worried, always wanted to know where she was, if she was safe. “I told him you were as upset as any love sick fifteen year old would be.”   
  
“I used to feel guilty about falling for Harold after James. I think Harry knew. I think it upset him.” Rose felt odd at admitting it out loud. She had never told anyone about the guilt before, but it eased the burden substantially. “Is it wrong to miss James? There was so much I didn’t know, never got to ask.”   
  
“No, but it may help if you believe he would want you to be happy, to get married, to have little princesses and princes.” Sarah Jane took her mug, setting it aside to pull her into a soft embrace. “And I think he’d want you to stop dwelling on the past and step into the present.” Rose squeezed her gently before pulling back. “He’d want you to smile.” Her lips pulled up, and Sarah Jane rubbed her arms. “Go on, I’ll clean up. Harry should be about done for the day. There isn’t much he can do with messengers and ravens kept out by the storm.”   
  
“Alone?” Rose arched an eyebrow, as Sarah Jane smirked. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so she pulled her cloak around her to keep the chill of the halls off, and hurried to Harold’s office. They so rarely got more than a meal or two together now, and she’d take any opportunity she could to steal time away with him.   
  
He was shutting the door behind him, pulling his own cloak around his body, when she reached the top of the stairs. His guards snapped to attention, making him turn, and Rose dashed across the empty space to throw her arms around him. “Well hello to you too, my Lady.” He kissed her cheek, and Rose breathed in the smell of his skin. He realeased her, holding her out to tilt his head in question. “What’s wrong, Rose?”   
  
“Why do you want to marry me?” Rose didn’t know why she asked, but suddenly she had a burning need to know.   
  
“Because I love you.” Harold leaned in, kissing her forehead with a smile. “I want you to be my Queen. I want you in my bed every night. Do I need to go on, or do you think that I’m lying?”   
  
“You don’t lie to me.” Rose looked up at him, breath catching at the desire in his eyes, at the way he couldn’t stop scanning her face. “I just needed to hear it is all.” She pressed up slightly to kiss him, relaxing as he chuckled and pulled her close again. Then they broke apart, and he smacked his lips with a hum. “What?”   
  
“Rum always makes you a bit emotional.” He started walking, and she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Why don’t I tell my men here to make themselves scarce, or as scarce as being outside a door can be, and we can go have some dinner.” He looked around as if realizing someone was missing. “Where’s Sarah Jane?”   
  
“Cleaning up the mess we made wedding planning and drinking spiced coco rum.” Rose whispered, biting her lip. Harold’s eyes sparkled wickedly. “Should take her about an hour.”   
  
“Well in that case.” Harold changed course, aiming for the royal wing. “I think it’s high time you see where you’ll be living come spring.” He snapped the fingers of his free hand before she could object. “Kirshwin, go have someone alert the kitchen my Lady and I will be dining in my chambers.” One of the guard’s veered away.   
  
“Harry, I can’t go into your chambers without Sarah Jane.” Rose felt her cheeks flush, looking around to see if anyone had overheard. The storm had this portion of the castle empty. Harold squeezed her side with a wry laugh. “It’s not proper.”   
  
“Rose, frankly I could give a damn about propriety.” He walked past the guards who opened the doors, and Rose was about to pull away, wondering if he was teasing or not. She loved him, but she wasn’t about to throw her honor out the window. “But you do, so the door will stay open and Kline will be right outside to alert Sarah Jane to our location.” She shivered as he leaned down and added. “I just want to get a taste of what our future holds. Don’t you?”   
  
“Not too much of one.” Rose whispered back as he paused at the door on the first landing. He had moved into his father and mother’s room shortly after his coronation. Maybe some intimate time alone with him would do it, would make that warmth she felt grow stronger. That was how it had happened with James. She followed him inside, leaving the door open wide, and Kline stepped into the frame, facing out to the empty air.   
  
She wasn’t sure what she expected, but not what she found. She had never been in his old room either, so she was shocked to find it reflected all of his passions vividly. His love of the hunt was evident with the hulking tundra bear rug in front of the fireplace, three prized stag heads placed between the windows, and a stuffed wyrwolf mounted on a rock in the corner, howling soundlessly at the rafters.   
  
There was a large sofa beside the fireplace, draped in a spotted fur blanket, and a high backed leather chair beside a floor to ceiling bookcase that was packed with volumes and intricate sculptures. There were also two of her art pieces on display: Thanatos galloping across the field and the Kingswood during fall. Thanatos’ painting marked what was obviously his dining area, and the Kingswood hung over the bedchamber door. “It’s very you.” She murmured, looking up at him.   
  
“This is just for intimidation when I host foreign visitors for a night cap.” He laughed, moving her towards the dining area. “Sarah Jane says it could use a woman’s touch. What do you think?”   
  
“I think some silk curtains and a few less trophies wouldn’t hurt.” Rose stumbled to a stop as they entered the dining area. This room was different, but similar. Maps hung on the walls, and the table was higher than hers, with only two chairs. One sat at the head of the table with a high back and broad armrests. The other was smaller, elegant, with...”Are those roses?” She breathed, moving forward to stroke the engravings. The wood smelled fresh, like it had just been carved. “Oh Harold, is this...” her voice trailed off as she took in the wall beside the door. The shield she had given him was prominently displayed with two very distinct sword hilts showing at the top. James’ ceremonial sword was on the left, and Rassilon’s was on the right.   
  
“Yes that is your chair.” Harold moved behind her, reaching around her to unhook her cloak and slide it off of her shoulders. “You should see what I’m doing to the bedroom.” He whispered in her ear, lips brushing against her. Rose gulped as her heart skipped a beat. “Not yet...” She heard him toss her cloak aside, and then his fingers moved up her spine softly. “Not until our wedding night. Then..” he brushed her hair back with his cheek and she couldn’t suppress the gasp she made as his lips closed around the back of her neck. “Mmmm the things I have planned for you, Rose Tyler.”   
  
“I can imagine.” Rose let herself relax back against him as he brought one arm around to trail his fingers up her stomach. Her tutors had been really accelerating her studies, and she had no less than six books on the varieties of physical pleasures that she could choose descriptions from. No doubt he had done some reading as well. Her words made him laugh, and she yipped as his teeth pulled at the soft skin where her spine met her skull. Harold’s fingers half fisted into her bodice, and he repeated the soft bite. Her face felt heated, and her breathing quickened. “Harry what are you doing?”   
  
“Shush.” He growled, and this time one of his hands pushed her hair fully up, tilting her head forward, and Rose whimpered in a confusion of fear and delight as he bit down just a bit harder in the same spot and gave a powerful suck. Heat flooded her veins, and she dug her nails into the sleeve of the arm holding her waist. Then he released her neck, panting behind her, as her hair fell back into place. “Don’t let anyone see your back of your neck until I say so, or you’ll be the talk of the castle.” He chuckled in a pleased way. Rose was trying to find words to acknowledge she understood, but she didn’t even know what he had done, or why it had made her feel suddenly ablaze and terrified all at once. “Rose.” He turned her, holding her out at arms length, tilting his head as he took in her face. His right eyebrow raised as he scanned her face, and then drew in a sharp breath. “Your King gave you an order. Did you understand?”   
  
“Don’t show anyone the back of my neck.” She whispered, licking her lips as she struggled to get her racing heart and lungs under control. “Because, you left a mark.” The passage on where it was appropriate and not appropriate for a wife to have lovebites from her husband floated into her mind. Necks, regardless of placement, were inappropriate. He said he didn’t give a damn about propriety. Rose swallowed, trying to clear her mind, but all she could think about was his lips.   
  
“Rose, my innocent blossom, did you enjoy that?” His smirk pulled up more, almost predatory, and then he was kissing her. Rose met him with equal fervor, and suddenly nothing seemed more important than being flush against him again. The wall that was swiftly against her back didn’t surprise her, but the way his teeth pulled at her lips did. She gasped, but his tongue flicked across the sting, erasing it. She gave chase, need to taste him on her own. Then things shifted.   
  
Harold’s hand fisted in her hair, and the other pinned her right arm to the wall. He tightened both, tugging her hair slightly until their lips broke apart and her head was pressed against the wall. It didn’t hurt, but Rose felt suddenly trapped. “Why do you look afraid?” He whispered, eyes dark but eager. “Don’t you trust me?”   
  
Rose relaxed at his soft question enough for the trapped feeling to subside, but not enough to stop the way her blood was roaring. “Yes.” She sighed. He had never hurt her, never not stopped when she said enough. “But let my wrist go.” His fingers tightened for a moment, but fell away. Rose lifted her hand to grab his arm, and he was kissing her again. He didn’t release her hair, and Rose bit his lip reflexively when he tugged it. She couldn’t break away to apologize because he gave a feral snarl into her tongue and pressed against her so quickly she rocked up onto her toes. Suddenly she was alone against the wall.   
  
Harold was an arms length away, licking his lower lip as he seemed to be appraising her in a new light. “That’s a first.” He muttered so low she may havw misheard. Rose struggled to catch her breath, her pulse thundering in her ears as he sucked his lip into his mouth. “Do you have any idea how perfect you look right now?” He extended on hand, and she took it to move on shaky legs from the wall.   
  
“I feel drunk.” Rose murmured as he guided her to her chair to sit. Then he smoothed her hair with a smile. “And hot. I need water.” She blew out a breath as he moved to take his own seat, those laughing eyes watching her as if she was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen.   
  
“You’ll have wine. Red, sweet, and wet.” Harold smirked as there was a knock at the door. “Enter!” Rose composed herself as much as possible when the kitchen staff carried in their dinner. Harold poured her goblet himself. It was red wine. It was sweet, and it wasn’t dry in the least. By the time Sarah Jane joined them, Rose had regained her senses enough to know something had happened against that wall, but she couldn’t understand exactly what it was.  
  
James never thought he’d be pleased to hear they were entering Skaro waters, but after two months on a damned island, and another month and a half racing to make enough trades to have supplies enough to get anywhere, it was welcome. He was sick of fish and the dwindling supply of nearly rotten fruit. The best part was, they were being allowed to go ashore. Granted, he was still collared, and they had been subtly threatened with death if they tried to run, but he was going to be sleeping in a real bed. They had repaired the Gaslight enough to get there, but not enough to be up to Jacques’ standards. So the ship would be in dry dock for two weeks while a team of actual shipwrights fixed her.   
  
Slavery wasn’t abolished in Skaro like it was in Gallifrey, San Kaloon, and Karn. Clom still allowed it to an extent, but only in extreme circumstances. So nobody batted an eye as Mathew walked with him down the street holding his chain. Jack was on his other side, being led by Polond. “The inn is that way.” James jabbed down the road.   
  
“Forget the inn, Wilf.” Mathew laughed, pointing at a one story wooden a-framed building up ahead. “Bath house mate. We’re going to have a nice long soak, maybe get rubbed down by some beautiful ladies. Captain said we’ve earned it.”   
  
“I knew I liked him.” Jack was practically bouncing, and James rolled his eyes. If they had been in Karn or San Kaloon, he’d have given the signal to start a brawl and run. This was Skaro though. He didn’t have any allies here. He didn’t have diplomatic immunity to cling to. The country had long since been turned over to a new king, who knew well enough to not make Davros’ mistakes.   
  
“I’ll take a bath, maybe even go for a glass of wine, but I’ll pass on the ladies.” James grinned at Jack, who shook his head. “Made it this far without betraying Marion. I’m not going to break that now.”   
  
“Wilf, give her up.” Mathew clapped his back. “She thinks you’re dead. Jacques isn’t going to let you go anytime soon. So, just live a little.” James tried not to scowl at the implications that Rose was already been claimed by someone else. They still had five months before her name day. The next port was going to be San Kaloon, and if they got to go ashore there, then he and Jack would run. If not, they might have stashed some files under a false panel they put in during the repairs.   
  
“Nobody said you had to defile yourself Wilf.” Jack snickered, and James shot him a look. His friend ignored it. “Just a nice massage, work some stress out of those muscles.”   
  
A massage did sound tempting. James body was leaner than he’d ever been. The hard manual labor and lack of fatty rich foods had stripped him down to all muscle. Jack was looking the same, but on him he knew it looked good. James just felt too ragged, and he hadn’t even shaved since the Island. His hair was a mess as well. “Maybe I’ll her a trim and a shave instead.” He mused, and that seemed to satisfy his companions.   
  
In no time at all, James found himself sinking into steamy, fragrant water. He groaned in delight at the feeling. He took a rag from a lovely lady with black hair and green eyes. Then he began to scrub himself. The grit of the sea and island was marvelous to wash away. He watched as his friend and crewmen were approached by the ladies, Jack eagerly agreeing to let one wash him.   
  
James closed his eyes, just letting himself relax for the first time in what felt like decades. He breathed in the heady steam, letting the spicy, jasmine soap in the water chase away the stink of the ship. He was so at ease, bordering on half unconsciousness, that he almost missed Mathew tug his chain. “Leaving already?” He frowned, though they had been soaking for almost an hour.   
  
“Getting massages!” Jack laughed, his arms around a ginger woman with blue eyes and an olive skinned woman with raven hair. “Come on Wilf! You can get that shave and trim!”   
  
He staggered out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist. Their clothes had been taken away to be aired out and freshened. Matthew stopped by a room, and the door opened. There was a blonde, no older than nineteen inside, wearing a near transparent shift. Mathew whispered in her ear so softly James couldn’t make it out, but she giggled and nodded, stepping aside. James was too clean, too exhausted to object as he was led inside and locked to a ring on the bedpost. Then he was alone with the woman.   
  
“So how much did they pay you to try to seduce me?” He asked flopping onto the bed and avoiding looking at her near exposed body. “Because I just want a haircut and a shave.   
  
“Twenty coins to try, with an additional twenty if I succeed.” The woman moved toward him in a movement that seemed almost all legs and hips. James looked pointedly at her face. She had bright teal eyes, and a full lower lip. “My name is Akeisa. What’s yours handsome?”   
  
“Wilfred.” He smiled, as she reached out towards his face. He caught her hand lightly, pulling it away. “Sorry, sweet lady, but I’m saving myself for my fiancée.” Akeisa looked a bit shocked, and he released her hand as she pulled it away. “Cut my hair after I shave, and I’ll lie and say you showed me a wonderful time.”   
  
“You’re an odd man Wilf.” Akeisa chuckled, but she turned and began filling a bowl with hot water from a tea kettle hung over a small fire in the corner. Then she produced a razor, shaving cream, and a rag.   
  
James took them, standing to move towards a mirror over a small dresser. He examined his month old beard, finding he didn’t like how it aged him. He wet his face, then smoothed the shaving foam over the coarse hairs. “Can you sing Akeisa?” He didn’t like the silence in the room, or the way she was staring at the whipping scars on his back. She nodded in the mirror and he smiled. “Know any Gallifreyan songs?”   
  
“No.” She shook her head, and he sighed. “I can sing ones I learned in San Kaloon.” Her face lit up in a smile, and James waved his hand for her to go on. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but her voice was sweet and soothing. He raised the razor to his face, slowly scraping the hairs away. The familiar sensation of doing this, of seeing himself slowly reappear in the mirror was heartening.   
  
James had changed, he noted. His facial features were more prominent. Stress had added a few wrinkles to his eyes. His face had lost the boyishness of his youth, looking more than his almost thirty years. He splashed his face clean of the shave cream, running his fingers along the now smooth skin. Akeisa’s singing stopped as he turned, his chain clinking. “You have a lovely voice. So, how about that hair cut?”   
  
“Sit on the bed.” James moved back to the sheets, holding still as she took the towel he had dried his face on as well as a fresh one in hand. She placed the fresh one behind him on the bed, then she hung the other around his neck before retrieving some shears where she got the razor. “Short, almost to the scalp.”   
  
“You’re the first man to turn me down since I started working here three years ago.” Akeisa didn’t sound offended, just curious. “Many were married. You’re an uncommon kind.”   
  
“Extremely.” James chuckled, as he felt the cold metal begin to cut away his hair. “Wasn’t always a slave. Used to be a soldier. I still have my honor.” He closed his eyes. Smiling as she hummed behind him. Her perfume was soft and teasing, like a vanilla bean and roasted sugar. “What about you?”   
  
“I’m not a slave.” She laughed, and he sighed. He hadn’t meant to imply she was. “Discovered early on that women can either make money themselves or depend on a man to provide. I decided to put both to work. I make money doing what I’m good at, and they pay me well. I may make my way to Karn in the summer. I hear their sea ports are positively ripe with potential.”   
  
“It definitely is.” James had been there enough before becoming a prisoner to know what fortunes she could make. Their conversation grew absent again, as he let her focus on her task. By the time she was done, he had a feeling he had left an impression on her. She had on him as well. Just because a woman didn’t wait until marriage, it didn’t mean she didn’t have worth. He helped her gather the hair off the bed, and then fell back on the sheets to wait.   
  
Akeisa propped herself next to him, her chin in her hand. “Tell me your story, since we have a while. I love stories. Men like to talk when they are satisfied. You’re satisfied.”   
  
“Well, I was in the war a few years back, and my brother Grayson.” He paused for a moment. “The one who took two girls to his room.” She nodded. “Well we got captured. We were planning to escape, had it all laid out, going to join up with the army when they marched on Davros. Then the jailers drugged us and sold us to the ship we’re on now.” He shrugged. There wasn’t much to tell, not unless he wanted to say the truth.   
  
“How’d you get the scars on your back?” Of course she would ask about those. James turned on his side to face her, absolutely not looking at the way the sheer dress pooled open to reveal the swell of her breasts where they met the sheets.   
  
“We have a woman on board, a healer. Someone tried to touch her and I stopped him, permanently.” One hand fell away from her chin, and Akeisa’s eyes narrowed in a way that said she hadn’t expected that, and didn’t know what to make of it. “Well, the captain can’t have a slave killing crewmen, but the ship rules said nobody touches her either. So... I got twenty lashes instead of a one way trip into Gallifreyan seas in winter.”   
  
Akeisa was silent for a long while, her eyes trailing over his face as if trying to discern if she was imagining things. Then, suddenly, her lips were on his. James jerked in shock at the sudden touch, gasping as she moved her hand to his chest. He pulled away from her, swallowing hard as he licked his lips. Not that it hadn’t felt nice, but he only kissed Rose since he had proposed to her almost eight years before. “Sorry.” She blushed, moving to sit up and adjusting her dress so she was covered as much as could be. “You were looking at my lips, and I thought...”   
  
“I’m not mad.” James shook his head, sitting up to brace himself back against her pillows. She looked a bit out of sorts, like she didn’t know how to handle a man who refused her advances. She also looked as lonely as he felt. “Akeisa?” Those teal eyes met his with caution. He had a thought, just one. Maybe they could stave off the loneliness without him marring his honor and her still get her extra twenty. “Have you ever been held by a man with no intention of taking you to bed?” She shook her blonde hair. “Come here then.” In an instant she was in his arms, head resting on his chest, and he wrapped her up.   
  
James closed his eyes, stroking her hair and thinking back to a bedroom lit by a single oil lamp, another young blonde woman in his arms who just needed to be held. “If there were more men like you, Wilf.” Akeisa sighed as she draped her fingers over his chest and smiled. “The world might just be a better place.”   
  
“That’s the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to me.” He chuckled, squeezing her gently. Then he let his head fall back, not even minding the weight of his collar. He had long since become accustomed to it. When Mathew, Jack, and Polond returned almost an hour later, Akeisa looked properly tired and smiling, and James flashed Jack a wink as Mathew paid her the forty coins. Then he got a departing cheek kiss from her, and lied like the professional he had become to everyone but Jack.   
  


 


	19. Chapter 19

James punched the wall in fury, and then winced as Martha and Jack stumbled away from him. “No! We have to go to Karn! What is Jacques doing?!” He spun, unable to stop the rage as he grabbed an empty metal stein off of Martha’s nightstand and hurled it. He had noticed they were heading east instead of west when he woke that morning.    
  
“He won’t risk the waters that way with all the naval traffic.” Martha swallowed, holding her hands up as if trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault. “The San Kaloon navy had already left their borders, and the Clomish and Karnish navy will be heading to Gallifrey. He said something about a royal wedding in three weeks.”    
  
“Shit!” Jack growled, pulling at his hair. “It can’t be April already! No!”    
  
Those were James’ exact thoughts. Thats why he needed to be in Karn. It was the last week of March. If he and Jack left ship in Karn, they would have made it home just before on on Rose’s name day. Everything would be stopped. Now, even if they managed to convince Jacques to turn back, it would be too late. They’d never reach Gallifrey in time to stop the wedding. “Rose’s name day, Martha. It’s in three weeks.”    
  
“James, I’m so sorry. I thought we had more time. What do we do?” Martha leaned against the wall, looking between them. “There’s no way we can reach the castle by then.”    
  
It had all looked so simple. They had stayed in Skaro for two and a half weeks for repairs and loading supplies. Then they gone on a run, trading off some illegal spices for some gold and jewels from the lands to the west of San Kaloon. That had been a month journey on its own. Then they had come back to Clom and to drop the jewels in exchange for illegal silks. Apparently Harold had increased the tax for some reason, and they were going to take them to another smuggler in a cove just west of Gallifrey. After the trade off, they had been chased by pirates for a week. There had been a boarding, but the Gaslight crew survived.    
  
Jack had save Jacques’ life, running the pirate captain through with a sword. Because of his actions, jack’s collar had been removed, and at James’ permission, he swore loyalty to Jacques. Was told if he behaved and kept up his dedication, he would have his collar removed at the next port. Next port should have been Karn. However, the crew had sustained injuries,  taken five pirates prisoner, and Martha was running short on supplies to treat the wounded. That had them on the way back to Skaro, so they could sell the slaves, and restock Martha’s medicine.    
  
True to his word, Jacques had removed James’ collar upon departing Skaro at night, and he, Jack, and Martha had celebrated. However, they were heading west towards San Kaloon. If what Martha said was true, then the king and queen of San Kaloon would already be almost to Gallifrey. He and Jack would not be able to seek assistance once they reached the port. Since they had a participated in a trade as free men, they had occurred to cut in any bounty. Even if they did, it would take a month and a half alone on horse back to reach Karn. If they had ported it in Karn, then Queen Ohila would have been able to supply them with supplies and men to travel home with.    
  
“We can’t do anything.” James rubbed his aching knuckles, trying to overcome the sense of hopelessness that threatened to sit in. “Short of fighting the entire crew and stealing the Gaslight, attempting to sail home with three people.”    
  
“That’s suicide.” Martha snorted, and James shot her a look. “So we wait an additional three months, do our runs, my contract will be up, and we go home together.”    
  
“Harold’s already been on the throne almost a year!” James growled, sinking down onto her bed and glowering at the floor. “I somehow doubt increasing silk tax is all he’s done to the kingdom, and definitely not all he’s done to Rose. Once he’s married her, stars above Martha, he will torture her. Don’t you get it?!”    
  
“You said she’s smart. She’ll find a way to protect herself.” Martha shook her head, shuddering as she was obviously picturing all the ways a sick, twisted man like his brother could harm a woman. “As long as he doesn’t kill her, you can save her.”    
  
“He won’t kill her.” Jack shook his head, and James had to agree. Harold disposed of his victims only when they threatened his throne with children. Rose having an heir would solidify it, which made James’ stomach churn. He wasn’t sure which was a worse fate, Rose pregnant upon his arrival or her tortured and abused. “I took an oath the protect her, to protect my kingdom.”    
  
“Harold likes new toys.” Jack murmured as if he had just realized something. “He’ll want to keep her from getting pregnant for a while, at least until he’s bored. He’ll probably have Patrick giving her jack in the pulpit root mixed with Queen Anne’s lace and smartweed.”    
  
James knew he was right. Harold would want to have his fun breaking Rose first, making her feel isolated, trapped. That’s what he did with his horses and his hunting hounds. “We have to hope, because we can’t abandon ship at San Kaloon. We need to have an escort to get home safely. If he even suspects we’re alive. Karn is our only choice.”    
  
“So we stay?” Martha looked between the men, and Jack shrugged. James nodded. “Lovely, now let me tend to your knuckles.” James surrendered his bleeding hand, sending out a silent plea for Rose to hold on.    
  
“Oh, Rose!” Jackie gasped as she stepped into the tent, covering her mouth. Tony was clinging to her skirts, looking up at Rose with wide eyed wonder. Even at nearly three, it was clear they were siblings. “You look beautiful.”    
  
“Thanks Mum.” Rose smoothed the front of her dress as Sarah Jane finished lacing the corset in the back up. The dress clung to her torso, curving up over her dress with the white silk material, and transparent tulle rose above it to her exposed shoulders and collarbone. It swooped down into flowing sleeves, adorned with silver crystals and beads, which fluttered gracefully around her like fairy wings. The sleeves came up to the collar, pinned around her shoulders to form a train, that would be detachable for the reception and ball.    
  
“Wosie looks wike a Queen!” Tony piped up. Rose smiled, as her brother was usually shy around her. They had grown close over his week long stay at the castle, and she loved him fiercely. “I wike the sparkles!”    
  
“She will be queen after today, little Lord.” Sarah Jane chuckled, handing the veil to Jackie. Rose bent her knees so her mother could snuggle the comb into the intricate updo of curls and braids her handmaidens had spent hours working on all morning. “One that would make Queen Idris proud.” Rose blushed at the compliment, as Idris had been the most beloved Queen in a century. She had a lot to live up to.   
  
“I may be biased.” Jackie cupped Rose’s cheeks, and she saw tears in her mother’s eyes. “But I think she’ll be better than her.”    
  
“Love you too mum.” Rose swallowed back the tears and the nerves as she turned to look in the mirror. She looked every bit a bride fit for a king, and the prospect was as frightening as it was thrilling. Her handmaidens were outside, whispering and fidgeting as they waited. “I’m ready.” She lied. She didn’t think anyone was ever ready to be queen, even if born into it. The title was a heavy one. she was responsible for all of Gallifrey, for producing and raising fit heirs, for standing in Harold’s stead when he was traveling or away at war.    
  
“Your father’s outside.” Jackie kissed her cheek, before lowering her veil. Rose almost didn’t deserve this white one either. So many times over five months, she and Harold had almost slipped. He had become more testing of her restraint but at the first sign of her becoming too aroused, too close to breaking, he had backed off. Never once had clothes been removed, or hands dipped beneath cloth, but it had been close. Once she had woken from a vivid dream of him climbing over her in the stable loft, and she had gone to his door only for him to kiss her, bite the back of her neck like he always did, until she couldn’t think straight, and then sent her back to bed. Swallowing, Rose stepped out into the spring afternoon to where her father was waiting.    
  
“There’s my Rosebud.” Pete hugged her, kissing her hair through the veil. “Are you scared?” He whispered softly. She nodded once, but then smiled up at him. “I was scared on my wedding day too.”    
  
“Oi!” Jackie slapped his arm as Sarah Jane scooped Tony up. “Don’t tell her that!” Rose giggled, as her handmaidens gathered behind her to hold her train up out of the dirt, and her parents too her hands. “He’s waiting.”    
  
Rose walked forward, her stomach clenching with nerves. She could taste the tea the healer Patrick had given her. She drank it every afternoon with her lunch, in order to prevent pregnancy after today. Harold had Told Patrick you show her the carefully measured ingredients so that she could brew it on her own. What else was allowed to know she was taking it, as it was expected for them to try for an heir immediately. Neither of them already, so they had agreed to wait a year before discussing it again.    
  
My nerves weren’t for marrying Harry. She loved him, trusted him. What scared her was the knowledge that now she was a woman. She was going from minimal responsibilities to governing the whole kingdom. However that fear dissipated as she stepped onto the flower petal adorned and white cloth. It ran up an aisle that was created by dividing the massive throng of citizens and visiting royalty. Harold was at the head of the path, standing on a raised platform with a priest. The confident and loving smile he was wearing erased all doubt and fear that she wasn’t ready.    
  
Her parents led her up to the steps, and once they reached them, her mother released her hand to move to the left. Rose curtsied as her father knelt, and the Priest’s voice boomed out. “Who giveth this woman to be wed?”    
  
“Her mother and I!” Pete responded, raising his head. Rose kept her eyes averted, listening as Harold descended the steps to stand before them.    
  
“Rise, and let me see my bride.” Harold’s voice held that formal tone, but she could hear affection under it. She stood, looking up at him as he lifted her veil and draped it back over her head. There was only pride and love in his eyes as he held out his fingers. She smiled broadly at him, unable to restrain her own joy, as Pete took her fingers and placed them in his.    
  
“Come before the gods, my King, my Lady!” The priest beckoned, and Rose felt her handmaidens and father step away as Harold led her up the steps to stand facing him before the priest. He raised their joined hands, as the priest loosely knotted a scarlet and gold rope around their wrists. “Do you, Harold Peter Edward Saxon, King of Gallifrey, take Lady Rose Marion Tyler of Powell to be your wife and queen? Do you promise to treasure her above all others in sickness and in health, to take no other lover, and to keep her at your side as long as you both shall live?”    
  
“I do so vow.” Harold squeezed her fingers in his, as he held her gaze. The four words sent waves of love down Rose’s spine, sparking tears to her eyes.    
  
“Do you Lady Rose Marion Tyler, take King Harold Peter Edward Saxon to be your husband? Do you promise to treasure him above all others in sickness and in health, to take no other lover, to bear his children and heirs if so able, and to maintain his honor as long as you both shall live?” The priests words carried out across the assembly, but she didn’t see or hear the crowd. She was drowning in Harry’s eyes, breathless at the triumphant look he bore as he smiled at her.    
  
“I do so vow!” Rose declared, as Harold stroked her skin with his palm.    
  
“Then what the gods and goddesses have so bound, let not man severe.” The priest covered their joined hands for a moment, before untying the thin rope and tucking it away. “You may kiss the bride!”   
  
Harold pulled her in, and Rose went without hesitant. She sighed, as their lips met in a tender embrace, and she felt one joyful tear breakfree. His hand came up, catching it on his thumb, and the people gathered applauded and cheered. Rose wanted to turn, to find her parents’ smiling faces, but there was one more thing. She released Harold’s hands, as the priest stepped aside to reveal a table with a plush cushion and a dazzling, diamond tiara.    
  
Her husband squared himself to his full height. “My Lady, if you would kneel.” Rose lowered herself as gracefully as possible onto her knees, letting her skirts and sleeves billow out around her. She kept her eyes downcast, waiting, heart racing. “Citizens of Gallifrey, today I take this woman as my wife. Now I ask if you will take her as your Queen!” There was an eruption of cheers, whistles, clapping, and all varieties of approval, but Rose didn’t look. She swallowed, not moving as he pulled the veil comb from her hair and handed it to someone, probably the priest. “Rose Marion Saxon, do you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Kingdom of Gallifrey with wisdom and mercy? Do you swear to uphold our laws such as they are, and to only support and affirm changes our nation that is good for all of her citizens?”    
  
“I do so swear, from this day, until my last day!” Rose projected her voice, though she kept her eyes fixed on his shined boots. Then she felt his hand on her hair, and she looked up, holding her breath as he settled his mother’s coronation crown on her hair.    
  
Harold extended both palms to her, and she took them, meeting his eyes once again. “You knelt as my wife!” He pulled up gently, and Rose stood. Then, he laced their fingers together, turning to finally face the. “You rise as my Queen!”   
  
The crowd went crazy again, this time as they chanted. “Long live the King. Long live the Queen!” Rose squealed in delight as Harold bent to scoop her into his arms and carry her down the steps. The people showered them in more flowers, as trumpets blasted, drums rang out, and he carried her to their waiting carriage.   
  
The reception was a blur of food, wine, and gifts to be presented. Rose was still reeling from the excitement of her marriage and coronation that she could hardly keep up. She wasn’t used to being given as much attention and respect as he was, she was pleased when the feast was over, and he led her through the doors to the ballroom for their first dance as husband and wife.    
  
“Drink only water for the rest of the evening.” Harold murmured, as they moved to the slow, serenading, love song being played. “I will too. I want this night to be clear and vivid for the rest of our lives.”    
  
“So do I.” Rose wasn’t going to argue. She wasn’t tipsy, but she knew if she had another glass or two of the red wine he loved to give her she would be. “We’re finally married.”    
  
“I couldn’t be happier.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I’ve dreamt of this for so long.”    
  
“So have I.” Rose sighed in contentment, before her father approached to cut in as the song ended. Harold stepped back, approaching her mother, and soon the night became a whirlwind of music, laughter, and dancing. She didn’t find a moment to herself, until Harold left a kiss on her cheek to join her father and the priest in the foyer. Rose sipped a goblet of water, knowing what was happening.    
  
Her father would be presenting a strip of white silk with no markings except for her family crest. The priest would check it for its cleanliness, to insure there were no stains. Then he would hold it out for Harold to see. Once her husband acknowledged it was unstained, the priest would be escorted to their bedchamber to lay it on their marriage bed. In the morning, it would be collected by the priest again, and presented to the high council as confirmation of their consummated marriage.    
  
Their bed, the words made Rose’s mind race. She was married now. She wouldn’t need a chaperone anymore, not that they had been exactly telling Sarah Jane every time they were alone. The woman in question was waving her over to where she was standing with her mum, whispering and flicking their eyes between her and the door. Rose put her goblet down and made her way to them. “What are you two conspiring about?” She whispered, as they moved her away from the nearby people.    
  
“Mum talk.” Jackie chuckled, pushing something into Rose’s hand. She looked down to find a small vial of clear liquid. “You’ll need this.” She closed Rose’s fingers over it with a loving squeeze.   
  
“What is it?” Rose queried, as both women shared knowing looks. “I’m not drinking anything unless you tell me.”    
  
“Well, as your mum. I want tonight to be perfect, beautiful.” Jackie smiled, keeping her voice a secret. “So I asked Sarah Jane  last night to tell me what you should expect once Harold steals you away to your room.” Rose was confused. She knew what to expect. Both women had insisted she be well studied on the arts of lovemaking. “Some men get over eager, you know. They don’t take the time to make sure their wife is fully ready.”    
  
“Mum, I know it’s probably going to hurt at first. I’m not stupid.” Rose wondered why they were lecturing her about this now. She’d been getting the lecture for three years.   
  
“Well, some men hurt more than others.” Jackie looked at Sarah Jane again, who was biting her lip in an attempt to hid a chuckle. “Sarah Jane raised Harold. She’s nursed him when he was sick, seen to wounds he sustained in battle. So, foster mother to mother, she thought you should know that he is.” Sarah Jane covered her mouth as Jackie giggled. “Very blessed in that area. So, even if he takes the time to make sure you’re ready, it’s going to be more than the normal pain. This is a mild relaxant. It will help you adjust.”    
  
“Harold said that he doesn’t even want me drinking more wine.” Rose felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment at the fact that her mum and Sarah Jane had been discussing just how endowed her husband was. “He said he wants our minds clear to remember this forever.”   
  
“It won’t haze your mind.” Sarah Jane finally managed to speak, her eyes dancing in amusement. “Mix it with a goblet of water now, and by the time Harold takes you upstairs, you’ll be fine. Now go, before your guests think you’re ignoring them.”    
  
Rose’s cheeks were still burning as she made her way back to her and Harold’s drink table. She settled into a chair, watching as her mother and Sarah Jane split apart and began to mingle. She refilled her water goblet, uncorking the vial carefully under the table. Then she poured the liquid into the goblet, hiding the empty vial amongst the scraps of food to be thrown out. The tonic gave the water a sweet smell, like a sugared treat, and she raised the goblet to her lips.    
  
Harold’s fingers closed over hers, as he took his seat. “What was that?” He tilted his head as she surrender the goblet to him. She swallowed as she was sure she was as red as the wine everyone else was consuming as he lifted the goblet to sniff and then take a small sip. “Sweet, mmm, well?”    
  
“Um, a gift from my mum.” Rose met his eyes hesitantly. Gods this was embarrassing. She couldn’t lie to him. They never lied to each other, so she sighed and tried to force the blood in her cheeks to leave. “She asked Sarah Jane what I should expect from you, well.” Rose nodded down at his lap, and Harold arched an eyebrow as he sniffed the goblet again. “And when Sarah Jane said you were very blessed, Mum wanted to make sure that I was relaxed enough to not hurt. She said it wouldn’t cloud my mind.”    
  
“Are you afraid it will hurt?” Harold set the goblet aside and took Rose’s fingers to kiss them. She nodded, trembling in delight as his eyes darkened with desire. She had figured out what that look was, and the knowledge had her heart racing. “You won’t need that, my love.” He kissed her fingers again softly. “Our bed is ready. Are you?” She nodded again. Rose let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding as he stood, pulling her to her feet. “Friends, Family, honored guests!” Everyone turned to face them, the music pausing. “The night is young, there is food and wine a plenty, yet my bride is tired. I feel it is my duty to escort her to our chambers. Please, continue on, and thank you all for sharing this day with us.”   
  
Rose didn’t yelp as he scooped her up, and hid her face in his neck. The guests were laughing softly, as the music resumed, and she sighed as he set her down by the stairs. “Our chambers.” She hummed, pressing up to kiss him softly.    
  
“Those words make me very happy.” Harold escorted her up the stairs, keeping his arm around her as they made their way through the quiet castle to the royal wing. The guards posted bowed as they opened the doors, and Rose giggled in anticipation as they closed behind her. They would be alone for two days, and her mind raced as she began to recall her studies. As they mounted the steps to the door, Rose drew a steadying breath. This was it. “I want to surprise you with what I’ve done.” Harold whispered, as he pulled a black scarf from his pocket. “Leave this on until I say.”    
  
“Of course.” Rose held still as he tied it, and then she clung to him when he opened the door and scooped her into his arms again. For the first time, he went left to the bedroom, and it seemed the door was open because he didn’t pause until he set her down. Then she heard the key turn to lock them in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Wedding gown](https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.pinterest.com/amp/pin/426927239657631548/?source=images)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will revolve around Rose adjusting to her new reality. James may make a few paragraphs as we check in on his adventures, but Rose’s trauma will be crucial to what exactly James returns to find, and why he makes decisions he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
> Rape  
> Coercion  
> Threats of child abuse/murder  
> Manipulation

Rose jumped reflexively as Harold’s palm pressed flat against her back, and he moved forward as he guided her. When they reached what she was sure was the center of the room, he pulled her to a stop and slid his hands up to her shoulders, squeezing them softly. “I’m taking the blindfold off. Don’t look around, just stare straight ahead.” His fingers undid the scarf slowly, letting it fall down from her face.    
  
She blinked, as the dimness of the room surprised her. The only light came from a spattering of candles and an oil lamp on either side of the bed. Rose gasped as she saw the red sheets, which made the white virginal cloth look even more spotless. Then she took in the headboard, the posts, confused as to why they would have heavy metal rings embedded in them. She wanted to turn, to look at him, but she didnt. He probably had some surprise for her, and she didn’t want to spoil it. “Why are you so silent?” She asked, her voice suddenly nervous.    
  
“Just memorizing this image.” Harold breathed in her ear. She held still as he reached up to remove her crown, and felt him step away. She heard him set it down, and then his must have joined her. “You’re trembling.” His chuckle made her smile as she realized she was. “I haven’t even undressed you yet, and you’re getting cold feet?” His lips brushed the back her neck as he gave a delighted sounding noise.    
  
“Never.” Rose reached back, wanting to feel him. He caught her fingers, spinning her around, and Rose barely had time to blink before his lips were on hers. They were starving, desperate, and rough, as he reached around her and began untying her dress. She struggled to keep up, fumbling for the buttons on his coat, her fingers clumsy in her ventures. She managed to get them undone, but before she could push it down his arms, he was pulling her sleeves down hers.    
  
“Out of it, now.” He chuckled, stepping back as he tossed his coat aside and toed off his boots. Rose shimmied the material down her body, looking up to find him untying his pants and pushing them down. She stepped out of the pool of material, feeling her whole body flush as he looked at her, taking in the painstakingly made lace bustier underdress that stopped at her mid thigh. “I want to see all of you, take everything off!” His voice was a commanding growl, as he kicked his trousers aside. Rose froze in the middle of sliding her underdress down to gape at his naked form.    
  
Blessed was right. Harold was already at full attention, and Rose’s thighs clenched at the sight. He had to be one and a half of her hands long, and his girth was nearly as thick as her wrist. She tore her eyes away from his manhood to meet his darkened blue ones, swallowing at the proud smirk he wore. The room behind him was too shadowy to see, but Rose could make out odd shaped shadows spaced throughout. She remembered her task, shoving her dress down, and stood before him just as bare.    
  
“Absolutely delicious, Rose.” He stepped towards her, lifting a hand to trail a finger down her neck, along her clavicles, and down between her breasts. “So... flawless. So, pure. This has been worth the wait.” His words were reverent, making her cheeks warm as she reached to touch him in kind. He caught her wrist in his hand, and Rose knew what was coming. She relaxed into him as he claimed her lips in another possessive kiss. His finger on her chest flew to her waist, and Rose groaned as he backed her up until her bare rear his the wooden foot of the bed.    
  
“I love you.” She gasped, feeling that warmth starting to push aside her nerves. Rose curved into him as he rocked his length against her, and the growl that came from his chest had her head spinning. Suddenly her wrist was free, and she was in the air, landing on the bed. “Eager are we!” She giggled, as she wriggled up to the pillows.    
  
“I’ve waited long enough.” Harold’s voice was full of intent as he came around to pounce on her. His hands were on her hips again, pulling her down until the silk of the cloth was under her skin. “You. Are. Mine.” He said each word with such force, such authority that Rose’s breath caught. She was about to reach for him, longing for his kiss, when he shoved her thighs apart and dipped a finger into her curls. Rose groaned at the sensation, relieved that he was going to help fan the flames that were building. Then, she winced as he slid two fingers partially into her without warning. “Perfect.”    
  
“Harry, slow down.” Rose lifted up, trying to move away from his touch, but he was over her in a flash, pinning her down with an arm across her chest, as he slotted himself between her legs. “Not yet!” She struggled, fear beginning to replace the arousal as he reached down to position himself.    
  
“Well I am. Now hush!” Harold’s words were accentuated by a hard, deep thrust, that sheathed him to the hilt inside of her, and she screamed at the pain.    
  
“Stop!” Rose writhed under him, trying to get her arms up to push him away, but he moved back and slammed in again. She clawed at him, sobbing at the burning, the stretching. “Harold you’re hurting me.” She couldn’t breathe, as her stomach rolled in agony. He wasn’t stopping. This wasn’t right he always stopped when she said to. “Stop! I said stop!” Rose tried to buck him off, to turn him over, but she was pinned under him. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as tears poured down her cheeks.    
  
“I’m disappointed in you, my little blossom.” Harold grunted, grabbing her arms, pinning them over her head with one hand as the other took hold of her chin. “Look at me!” Rose refused to open her eyes, refused to stop fighting. She bent a leg as he moved forward again, trying to lift herself up. He squeezed her so hard Rose had to open it. “I said look, or I’ll make you.” Rose opened her eyes, finding his full of lust and something she couldn’t describe. She sobbed again, as more pain rocked through her with his movements. “I thought you liked when we played. I thought maybe you enjoyed receiving the pain I could give. I’m very, very disappointed.” He released her jaw, moving his hand to her right breast and squeezing hard. “But instead you cry, just like Hannah did when I had to find some relief for you being a damned cock tease. I’m so disappointed.”    
  
“You!” Rage filled Rose as his words. She couldn’t help herself, despite the pain, despite how badly she was burning, the realization of what he was, what he had done was too much. She spit in his face, yanking her arms. She got one free, bring it down to claw at his shoulder. “Get off of me!”    
  
“Oh that was rude.” Harold growled, still not stopping in his forceful movements into her body. Rose didn’t have to guess that this wasn’t the second time he’d dealt with a struggling woman. He wiped his face, and before she could take advantage of his blindness, he lowered it to her throat. “Do that again, and I’ll have your baby brother gutted.” Rose couldn’t breathe, as his fingers tightened. “Tell me you love me.”    
  
Rose tried to shake her head, but she couldn’t move it. His face was blurring, her cheeks pounding, ears ringing. She had to fight, to get away. Her father was just on the otherside of the castle. He would protect her. Harold released her throat just as her vision grew dark and her body started going limp, and She gasped at the pain of blood rushing away and back to her head. Then her arms were pinned again, and Harold was kissing her, his thrusts short, erratic, and then he stilled with a loud groan. “Bastard.” She managed to whisper, as he pulled away with a satisfied hum.    
  
“Such language.” Harold laughed, and the haughtiness of it made Rose want to puke. She coughed, trying to make the room stop spinning as he slid from her. She thought there would be relief, but the warm liquid that spilled from inside of her stung like heated needles. He straddled her hips, letting his softening length rest against her stomach. “I’ve taken nearly one hundred flowers, but yours was definitely my favorite.”    
  
“Guards!” Rose found her breath, and she screamed. She screamed for all she was worth. She tried to force her arms free, struggled to throw him off of her, but he only laughed, pressing her arms more firmly down into the pillows, twisting her wrists until they throbbed in pain. “Guards! Help me!”    
  
“Oh, Rosie, my sweet blossom. They already know. They won’t help you. So lay still and let me explain how this works.” Rose almost spit at him again, but his threat against Tony stopped her. Her whole body ached with the need to fight and run, but she couldn’t move. Her thighs and stomach throbbed in pain, and her head was still spinning. “Now I’ve never lied to you, and I will never lie to you. So believe me when I say, if you try to get up before I tell you, your mummy dearest won’t survive the journey home.”    
  
“You have lied!” Rose choked on her tears as he smirked. “You said you only had one other woman, but you just admitted to raping Hannah and almost a hundred others!” What else had he lied about? Everything? It didn’t matter. This wouldn’t stand. Now she understood James’ outburst so many years ago, why he had threatened Harold in the library. He had known what he was. James had known, and he hadn’t stopped him.    
  
“No, I said I’d never made love to another woman besides her, and I haven’t.” Harold gave her a look that said he knew he had her, and she froze. She was too afraid to move, too afraid to do anything. If she did,   
Her mother would die. “Was going to tonight, but, you just weren’t what I thought. That’s fine, it just means that I’ll have to give you the lecture.” He released her wrists, falling over to his back and pulling her into his arms. Rose almost resisted, until she realized he would and could take it out on someone she loved. So instead, she laid perfectly still on his chest, contemplating a million ways to kill him as he continued.    
  
“You tell anyone, and I mean anyone about this, about what I said, and you’ll be burying your Daddy.” Rose didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting, she just stewed in her anger. “You try to kill me or hire someone to, and the men I have hidden as staff at your parents manor will let their hands slip over your parents drinks, and whomever you tell will meet the same fate.” He kissed her hair gently, rubbing her spine with that same affectionate touch he had used so many times before. “Try to run away, and those orphans you love so much will find themselves trapped inside as their home burns down. Do you understand?”    
  
“Yes.” Rose poured as much venom into the word as she could. He was hitting her where she was most vulnerable, trapping her in because he knew she would never put her own safety above theirs.   
  
  
“Yes, Master.” Harold sighed, sitting up and easing her to the sheets. She whimpered softly, trying to mask it as an exhale, as her bruised body protested at any movement. “Say it, Rose, my love. Yes, Master.”    
  
“Fuck you.” The retort came out before she could stop herself, and Harold paused where he was pulling the now bloody and stained cloth to put it by the door. His eyes flashed, and Rose cried out when his right hand collided with her thigh with all of his strength.    
  
“Say it!” Harold threw the silk aside, hand coming up. “Or one random guest tonight will find themselves choking on their own tongue.”    
  
“Yes, Master.” Rose snapped, staring at the shadowed door, where the key glistened in the candlelight. She didn’t speak, trying to find something, any lie to catch him in. “You lied. You said you love me.” She lifted herself up, covering her exposed chest as she bent her legs to hide that portion from him as well.    
  
“I do. I love you.” Harold was walking around now, unshuttering oil lamps as he went, lighting up the room to reveal sheet covered shapes that didn’t look like they had any honorable uses. “I love you like I do all of my possessions, like a favorite toy, or a prized hound bitch.” Rose shot daggers at him when he looked over at her. “You are my greatest possession, the one I had to wait years to get.”   
  
“Now that you have me, is this what I’m to deal with?” Rose wanted to cry. She wanted to strangle him. She wanted to lunge across the room and pour that burning oil on his skin. “I’m your prisoner now?”    
  
“Don’t be stupid.” Harold moved across to his dresser where a tray held a jug and two goblets. She watched as he filled them, the red wine reflecting the many flames. “This is your home. It’s only a prison if you tell yourself it is.” She recoiled as he approached the bed, extending a goblet to her. “Come now, Blossom, don’t be such a child. Your throat is bruised inside. This will help.” Rose shook her head, pulling her knees to her chest. It was poisoned. She knew it was. “Look.” Harold drank from both goblets, smiling as if she was nothing more than a tantruming toddler. “I’m not going to kill my Queen. Drink, now.”    
  
“Fi-Yes, Master.” Rose took one goblet, her hands trembling in terror and rage, as she lifted it to her lips. It had been her favorite wine, their special wine, for months. Now it tasted like death. She drained it, under his soft stare as he emptied his own, then extended it back to him.    
  
Harold set them both aside and extended his hand. Rose knew instantly it was an order and not a request. She took it, crawling across the sheets as he helped her to her feet. Her tortured thighs and core were weak, and she stumbled. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He grabbed her waist, holding her up. “Can’t have you falling and bruising that beautiful face.”    
  
“Like you aren’t going to.” Rose growled, jerking from his grasp to brace herself against the wooden post of the bed. What kind of monster was he? How had she never known, never seen the truth behind that sickly sweet smile?    
  
“I never will.” Harold shook his head as he ghosted a finger along her cheek. Rose almost puked her wine up at the touch. “Your face, your beautiful breasts.” His hand dragged down to cup one in what otherwise would have been a loving way. “Or this.” He darted that hand between her thighs to cup her curls, sliding one finger inside of her. Rose whined at how sore it felt, her legs buckling. “Will never, ever be marked. They are my favorite parts of you.” He pulled his fingers away, and the sight of the sticky, red tinged fluids on them made Rose stumble away.    
  
“Stop!” Harold grabbed her, and she struggled as he pulled her back to his chest. “You’re going to hurt yourself, and you are not allowed to do that!”    
  
“Just let me go.” Rose stared at the door, it was so close. Yet, if she ran... “I hate you.” She pounded her fists into his arms. “I hate you!”    
  
“Hit me again.” Harold spun her, his eyes glowering down at her with a lethality. “And I will have you watch as I cut your name into that pretty redheaded handmaiden’s legs.” Rose unclenched her fingers as she balked from the image. “Now, come here. I have a wedding gift.”    
  
“I don’t want any gifts from you.” Rose protested, but she let him propel her over to the dresser, where there was a large wooden box engraved with roses wrapped in pink and yellow ribbons. He took her hands, placing them on it, and she gulped thick trepidation as she untied them and opened it.    
  
The lid folded back to revealed two shelves lined in velvet with a matching cushion in the space below. Coiled delicately in neat rows were exact replicas of the choker collar with the heart lock charm he had given her for yule two years past. The only difference, is these each had different colored stones from pale blue to bright pink, to soft yellow or royal purple. There was one of every color dress she owned. The only color missing was bright red, which rested upstairs in her jewelry box. Now she understood, could see how he had been planning this even then. They weren’t just pretty necklaces. They were collars, beautiful, priceless collars for his prized bitch. “I’ve seen you in the red, but tonight, I’m thinking diamonds.” He reached around her to pick it up. “Look in the mirror.”    
  
Rose looked up at their reflections, disgusted by the adoring smile on his face as he pulled it around her throat as clasped it. “So I’m your slave?” She asked, the reality sucking any emotion except grief from her. She shuddered as he closed the box and wrapped his arms around her waist. It should have been a beautiful thing to see in the mirror, but all she could perceive from him now was the sick darkness of his soul.    
  
“Only if you force me to make you.” Harold murmured, kissing along her shoulder. Rose scoffed, using her words to mock him since she couldn’t physically lash out. “Now, aren’t you curious as to what all of those are?” He nodded into the mirror at the sheets.    
  
“Not anymore.” Rose swallowed after she spoke, letting him move her to each one, as he pulled the sheets aside: a bench with a kneeling pad and rings on each leg,  a wooden X with four heavy rings, a rack adorned with varies whips, paddles, and sheathed blades, and three other odd creations that looked designed to hold her into positions that would otherwise strain her. “These look like torture.”   
  
“Mmmm, yes they are.” Harold’s tongue curled along her ear, as he pulled her to a stop and opened a wooden chest. Inside were more knives, paddles, coils of rope, chains, and manacles. “Every night, except when it’s your cycle, I will use these. I’m going to teach you to love the pain, or I’m going to break you in the process.”    
  
Rose didn’t see herself doing either, but his mention of her cycle made her pause. “And during that week?”    
  
“You’ll use your mouth to please me, or sometimes I may bring one of your handmaidens in for you to watch me play with. I’ve been very careful not to touch them since Hannah, but, mmmm now that you know.” Rose slammed the lid shut at his woods, not wanting to see the contents any longer. She had to do something, anything to protect her girls, her family. Nobody was coming to help her tonight, nobody had heeded her screams,   
and she wouldn’t risk lives by trying to run until he was asleep.    
  
“You’re a monster.” She hissed, stumbling as he pressed his now hardening length against her bare rear. “No more. I can’t handle it again.” Everything was still too sore, too weak.    
  
“I’ll have you as I please!” Harold growled, teeth digging into the back her neck. Rose felt her legs give out, but he caught her again, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. She tried to scramble away, but he jumped onto her back, hands plunging into her hair, yanking a fistful so hard she had to lift her head up. “Whenever I please, and I want you now.” Rose tried to squeeze her legs shut, but he kicked them open with his knee, and rocked her flat into the sheets as he entered her again.    
  
Rose twisted her hands into the sheets, calling him every name she could, trying to shake him loose, but she couldn’t. It hurt too much, took too much out of her, and he used her just like he said, until she collapsed into a ball on the sheets, sobbing her pain to nobody but him. Then he carried her to the bathtub of warm water, the fires underneath it nearly burned out, and held her to his chest as he stroked her arms and began pulling her now ruined hairstyle gently free. “Tell me you love me.” He murmured, cupping her stained cheek in his palm. “Or else...”    
  
“I love you.” Rose choked, offering him her swollen and bruised lips. She was smart, would figure out how to play this game, but first, everyone she loved had to survive the night, even if her innocence hadn’t.    
  
  
  


  
  



	21. Chapter 21

Harold like knives, Rose found, quite a lot. It was evidenced by the paper thin cut along her abdomen and biceps. You could taste it on her tongue, when he had made her lick the blade clean the very first cut. She had felt the sting as he had watched from a chair, instructing her on how to properly clean the incisions with warm water. “Pick one handmaiden to tend to anything I leave on your back.” He had permitted, as he sheathed the narrow blade. “You are to let no one but her or I see you naked. You will bring her to me tomorrow, and I will handle keeping her silent.” She hadn’t responded, just stared at the wall behind his head.   
  
Harold had spent more time than Rose cared to imagine planning all of this. Done it right in front of her, and she never even noticed. All the new guards in the castle were loyal to him alone, charged with only heeding her cries for assistance if he was not present. He had infiltrated her father’s staff with three assassins, all of whom would kill without hesitation. Family was not exempt either. Harold had said if she went to any of them, made any hints, they would suffer from the same poison he had used on his own father.   
  
The only defiance she was allowed was to struggle or talk back. But if she said she hated him, spit at him, or wished him dead, then he would bind her down. If he was feeling forgiving, it would only be a beating, or maybe a few new cuts. If he wasn’t, he told her to use her imagination to picture what he would do. Rose had been his toy less than two days, she had only made that mistake once. She had said she wished he died instead of James. Harold must’ve known she would eventually say it, because after he had dragged her to the kneeling bench by her hair, tied her wrists to the rings on the front and chained her thighs spread open to the legs in the back, he had walked over to a drawer. Rose watched as he lifted along cloth wrapped object out and carried it over to her.   
  
From her immobilized position, she could do was lift her head to watch him pull the cloth away, and her stomach turned as he held up a dagger. It wasn’t just any doctor, it was the one James wore when they went riding or walking to the town. The jeweled hilt sparkled in the sunlight pouring in the windows. “ James helped me become this.” Harold smirked. Rose shivered reflexively as the cold blade glided delicately along her skin, tracing each bump of her spine down to her rear. “You have the most perfect arse.” He moaned, and Rose winced as he curves the tip of the dagger over the split blisters left there from a flogger that had had needles in the strands. She braced herself for the coming cuts, fisting her fingers against the wood, screwing her eyes shut, refusing to whimper. It didn’t come.   
  
Instead, she felt his fingers in her curls, parting them. Then she gasped in shock as she felt the cold metal of the dagger’s hilt thrust into her swollen and bruised center. He made a breathy noise behind her, and Rose tried to push it out, tried to move, to close her legs, but she couldn’t. He twisted it, and the jewels caught on her insides making her bite back a sob. “Please... stop...” it was wrong, so wrong, to feel it, feel anything he did inside of her. The fact that it was James’ made the insulting intrusion on the more humiliating. With another twist, he yanked it out roughly, and Rose had to rock forward as her body revolted against the pain.   
  
Harold came back in front of her, and Rose knew now that she best look up when he did. The hilt was in front of her mouth, sticky with his remaining seed that he had abandoned in her not two hours before. It sullied the sapphires, as he pressed it to her lips. Knowing he would shove it in if she refused, Rose parted her lips, sucking it clean. The taste of her tongue was repulsive, and she gagged silently as she forced her tongue to reach every groove. When he pulled it away, she swallowed, snapping. “James would never have taught you this.” She jerked her wrists to emphasize her point.   
  
“No, these are skills I perfected in Skaro. I am very talented at torturing prisoners of war, and mmmm.” He chuckled as he wrapped the dagger back up. “There were so many virgins ripe for the taking while I controlled the city.” There, he had admitted a lie. Rose felt a triumphant smile building until he turned to kneel down and snag her chin. “James, he taught me more important things. I learned the art of deception, hiding what I do. I learned how to cover my tracks.” His eyes taunted her, and Rose’s mind rebelled against the idea. “Come now Rosebud. Don’t act like he is a saint.” He leaned in, sliding a hand down her arm to tease rhe skin above the ropes. “I know he hurt you, left bruises on your arm right here.” His whisper would have been like a lover recalling fond memories, if the words had been different. Instead the flash of a storm, James’ rage as he shoved her into a dark shed, his lethal tone as he shouted at her. Her heart sank, another betrayal of the image she had kept him in, as she accepted Harold’s truth. He kissed her cheek softly. “No lies between us, remember.”   
  
“Yes Master.” Rose slumped against the wood, as tears stung her eyes for the first time since she’d woken. This was always going to be her fate, whether it was with Harold or James, and the reality was too much. She needed to get up, to move, to find some relief from his games. Her mind floundered, as her tears dripped in silence, finding any excuse he couldn’t refuse. “It’s time for my tea from Patrick.” She whispered.   
  
“Good girl.” Harold began to untie her, and she pushed herself up to rub her freed wrist as he unlocked the chains. “Come sit, I had your herbs brought in before ceremony.” As numb and boneless as her body felt, she had no choice but to lean into him as he guided her to the chair in the corner by the fireplace, where he kept water boiling to clean his ‘toys’ as he called them. Then he picked up the box of ingredients, holding it steady as she carefully measured the dried herbs into a cup, which he filled with water.   
  
“I can’t function like this.” She whispered, staring down at the darkening liquid. “How can I be Queen if you leave me beaten, weak, and unsteady?” She wiped at her cheeks, sipping the still scalding liquid. She could barely hold herself upright, as she felt like he had drained her energy with every touch.   
  
“This is just your instruction, Rose.” Harold picked up some grapes and began popping them into his mouth. “After tomorrow, I will not be so hard, unless you make me.” That should have been a relief, but it only made her more anxious. “This was just to show you what is to be expected. What goes on in our chambers will not occur outside.” He came behind her, massaging her shoulders as if he cared she was upset. “In here, you are my wife, out there you are Queen. I will make sure everyone knows it.”   
  
“Except the guards.” Rose snorted, and a thought struck her so violently that she almost spilled her drink. “They won’t do this to me too, will they?!” The words gasped out as the image of being violated any more had her fighting bile in her throat.   
  
“If anyone dares lay a finger on you in such a wat.” Harold growled, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. “I will gut them myself.”   
  
“Finally a happy thought.” Rose rolled her eyes, choking down the last of her tea. Another plan came to mind, not one of escape but one of protection for her girls. She would make sure they all drank a cup every day as well. She didn’t say anything to Harold though, unsure how he would feel about it.   
  
“Give it time, Rose.” Harold released her shoulders to take her cup away. Then he held out his hands. She took them, as the hot tea warmed her shivers. Her skin had been so hot, but inside she had been freezing. Slowly she stood, though all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed upstairs and sleep. “Soon you’ll want this. You’ll crave the things I do, just like you did not two days ago.”   
  
“Never.” She gritted her teeth, tensing as he led her to the bed. Why wouldn’t he just let her rest? They’d been at his games all morning, and she didn’t think she could stay conscious if he took anymore from her. She waited for him to make a move, to push her onto her back or turn her to take her from behind. “How do you want me, Master?” She asked, keeping her tone flat and emotionless. She wouldn’t submit, but she wasn’t capable of any more pain.”   
  
“I want you to lay back and rest, while I call for some lunch and fresh bath water.” He pushed her shoulders until she fell onto the pillows, and then he drew a single sheet over her bare body. “There is more for you to learn, and I can’t have you passing out.”   
  
“ I will never want any of this.” Rose curled onto her side, staring up at him defiantly. “I will never seek this out for pleasure.”   
  
“Keep resisting me.” Harold leaned down for a forceful kiss. “Keep fighting. It makes breaking you all the more satisfying. Now sleep. Rose closed her eyes, listening to him pull on some clothes, unlock the door, and walk out. When it closed behind him, Rose pressed her face into the pillow to scream her rage before letting the exhaustion drag her under.   
  
What brought her back to consciousness was the feeling of someone rubbing something warm and creamy against her folds. Rose yelped, forgetting in her sleep logged state what was happening to her life, until she realized she was tied down. Her arms were stretched wide on the bed, tied to the rings of the posts, and her ankles were restrained as well, forcing her legs open. Harold was sitting beside her hips, one hand resting on her stomach clutching a straight razor and the other was hidden between her legs, smoothing some sort of cream. “You said you wouldn’t cut me there!” She gasped, trying to move herself away from his touch, but she had no room to even lift her hips.   
  
“I won’t.” Harold looked over at her with that smile she had once found comforting. Now it made her stomach churn. “I’m going to shave you.” He nodded to a bowl on the side table beside the bed, which she could barely see past her arm, and then lifted his fingers away to show cream used for shaving. “Not fully , just short enough so That when I have you like this, so open, waiting, I can see what belongs to me.” His fingers dipped down again, spreading her folds, until he reached the sensitive bud at her apex. Rose jerked when his fingers touched it, but then he pinched it hard, pulling it with a short twist, and the burning pain it cause made her cry out. “Like this part of you.” He smirked, and Rose had never wanted to slap someone so badly in her life. “In the morning, I want you to watch me shave so you can learn. I expect you to keep yourself trimmed, but not bare, to my standards at all times. That’s an order.”   
  
“Yes, Master.” Rose clenched her fingers into her palms, staring up at the roof. She held absolutely still as she felt him lower the razor, hardly daring to breathe for fear of causing him to slip. She couldn’t figure out what was worse, Harold being gentle and careful, or him abusing her. The abrupt changes had her befuddled, unable to predict his next move. Time crawled as he worked, so much so that Rose found herself drifting between sleep and consciousness again. She was jerked back to herself as a cool, wet rag was cupped against her mons, and the relief it brought against the heated bruising and tears from his repeated violations made her groan out loud.   
  
“Does that feel good?” Harold had tossed the razor aside, and was smirking at her with sparkling eyes. She clenched her jaw shut, refusing to nod, refusing to answer. “I know it does.” He practically purred, and began moving the cloth with soft, caressing strokes. Then he tossed it aside,  cupping her with his bare palm, fingers dipping to circle her center before trailing up to press softly against the still sore bud at her apex. Rose swallowed, narrowing her eyes at him, waiting for another pinch, but it didn’t come. He simply rolled it gently under his thumb. If She wasn’t so sickened by him, Rose would have groaned again. “When you yield to me. I’ll let you feel satisfaction.” His hand lifted away and Rose exhaled in relief at his fingers’ absences.   
  
“I’d rather die.” Rose hissed, trying to pour her hatred into her face. “Nothing will ever make me ask for this.”   
  
“You will.” Harold moved off the bed, standing to untie her wrists. “One day, of your own free will, you will come to me and you will want it. You’ll love me, feel safe in my arms, my hands on your skin, and I won’t have to pay a couple of thugs to scare you into it this time.” He released her ankles with a chuckle. “Go eat.”’   
  
“The attack in the woods!” Rose didn’t think anything else could shock her. Harold had been toying with her then, getting off on watching her scared out of her wits. “I should have known!” Rose moved away from him, but when he pointed to the open door, she stood, her legs still sore and shaking, to stumble from the room. When she realized he hadn’t followed, she crossed into the dining area. The main door had a guard, Kirshwin, outside, she knew. If she ran out, he would simply shove her back in.   
  
She sank into her chair, lifting the cover off of her lunch tray. Her eyes drifted to the wall, recalling her first visit to this room. Harold had showed some of his truth then, right there, pinning her wrist, pulling her hair. Rose had been so love struck, so intoxicated by his kiss and the rum, that she had wanted it. The hair pulling then had felt glorious, his lips and tongue like all of her unspoken fantasies. She knew now it had been a test. Her accidental bite of his lip, yielding to his dominant press against her body. She had been practically begging for him to take her then and there. How stupid she felt now, naive and blind. She ripped her eyes away from it, grabbing her spoon for the rich venison stew. When she was finished, she didn’t get up. If he wanted her, Harold would have to come get her.   
  
He did, and Rose kicked and shouted as he dragged her back to the bedroom. When he pinned her down, though. She clammed up, only staring up defiantly in his eyes as he thrust into her again. This time, Rose made no noises except breathing. She fought back the bile, the urge to scream with each rock, bite, and scratch of his nails. When he emptied himself inside of her, sliding out, Rose gave into the need to insult him. “Done already, Master? Blimey, no wonder you have to rape us. What woman wants a man with so little stamina?”   
  
The rage on his face was worth the new bruises, seventeen new cuts on her outer thighs, the six sutures she had to sew close the slice on her calf, and the blisters on her stomach from the hot lamp oil he had splashed across her. Rose had gotten to him, wounded his ego without breaking the rules. She was learning all right.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rape  
> Rose is forced to help him do it  
> Attempted suicide  
> Rose is forced to murder someone she loves  
> Seriously friggin dark stuff

Rose had managed to hold herself together for three weeks. It had been an exhausting three weeks, but she had done it. Last night had tested her limits though, and she tried to push it from her mind as she bit down on the leather strap Juliza had slipped into her mouth when the woman poured the antiseptic herbal water onto her raw back. Her fingers gripped the stone tubs edge, as she whined her burning pain.     
  
She had chosen Juliza because the handmaiden had nothing. She was an orphan, raised by her grandmother who had worked in the kitchens before she died. Rose had thought if she picked someone who only had the castle life, then Harold would have no leverage and she would find a way to help. Yet, Harold was a master manipulator, and a quiet promise to have the girl drugged and sold into whoredom deep in Skaro’s darkest brothel had bent Juliza to submission.    
  
“I’m sorry, your Grace.” The woman cooed, her delicate fingers tenderly cleaned the eight finger wide lash wounds that Rose knew were red, inflamed, and open on her back. “One more rinse, and I’ll apply the numbing balm and bandage them.” Rose nodded, trying to force herself to relax. She had learned relaxing hurt far less than tensing, be it sterilizing a wound, Harold taking her in a drunken stupor, or receiving a beating. “I know why you did it, your Majesty, but you shouldn’t have.” Rose closed her eyes as her back burned again, unable to keep from replaying the events from nine hours before.    
  
She had started her cycle shortly before dinner, and she had told Harold when they met in the hall outside of her office. He had smiled, kissed her forehead, and tucked her under his arm. Then he had asked her which of her handmaidens had the prettiest voice. Rose had answered Myrna without thinking, and had instantly regretted her decision as one of his guards stalked off without a word. They had just finished eating when Myrna had knocked on their chamber door, saying she was there because Rose had requested her presence.    
  
Rose had tried to warn her with her eyes to run, but Harold beckoned the woman in and locked the door. “Queen Rose says you have a lovely voice.” Harold had grinned, taking Myrna’s hand. “I’d like to hear it. Come, help your Queen out of her dress and sing for us.” Then he had opened their bedroom door.    
  
“I’m so sorry.” Rose had whispered, as Myrna began unlacing her dress, the woman’s voice filling the room with its flute like sounds. The key turned, and Harold had smirked in the reflection of the mirror. When her dress slid to the floor, Myrna had gasped at the bruises and cuts. “Please forgive me.” She had turned, hugging Myrna so tight as Harold had ripped the girl back by her hair. Her screams had shattered Rose’s heart.   
  
“Kneel.” Harold had growled. “You too Blossom.” Rose hated that name, hated the way it slipped so sickly sweet from his tongue.    
  
“Leave her! Take me instead.” Rose had tried to get between them, but Harold said Tony’s name and she was on her knees. Myrna sobbed beside her as Harold stripped himself down and stood in front of Rose, half hard. She opened her mouth, wishing with all her might that she could just bite down. The orphans would burn if she did, so instead she gagged, sucking, clutching Myrna’s hand as Harold pulled their hair. Then he had bound Rose to the wooden X on the wall, and she screamed herself raw for him to stop as he pinned Myrna to the floor, the pink and white silk of her handmaiden’s dress staining red.    
  
If that hadn’t been torture enough, he hand bent Myrna over the kneeling bench, threatening to burn her parents’ farm to the ground if she moved, and uncuffed Rose. He had pushed her down to her knees, shoving her her head forward. “Taste!” Rose had shook her head, refusing to violate the poor girl anymore. Harold reminded her of her parents, and Rose gagged on the blood and fluids as she licked and swallowed. Then, poor Myrna had been told to get up, help her dress for bed, and reminded what would happen should she speak a word. When Rose walked Myrna to the door, she had apologized again, reminding her to take her tea as they all had been doing. The others thought it was to help their health, keep them looking young. Now Myrna knew what it was for.    
  
So, Rose had gone back to Harold, curling up beside him as was her duty, and laid there awake. Never had anything he’d done broken her so much. Never had she felt so powerless. How could she hope to survive? She couldn’t protect her handmaidens. She had been forced to ruin Myrna’s innocence after Harold had defiled her. So, she had eased from the bed when Harold hadn’t moved in quite some time, going to the rack of daggers. Maybe, there was one way she could show the world, one way there would be no denying it. Her parents would want to bathe her body, to pray over it. They’d see the damage. Rose had unsheathed one, tiptoeing to the bathroom where their unemptied bath water still sat, cold, and murky.    
  
Rose had stripped off her night dress, stepping into the water, staring at her wrists in the dying torchlight. Then she had pressed the dagger to her skin, about to cut, when Harold seized her wrist with a roar and the dagger clattered to the floor. “As long as we both shall live.” She remembered mumbling as he grabbed her hair, yanking her up to stumble wet and cold to the bedroom. She was chest to the wood on the X this time, her arms above her head.    
  
“Try to kill yourself again, and I will put the torch to your parents Manor myself.” He whispered. Then he pulled out a small whip. She had lasted five lashes before she lost consciousness. Rose had woken face down on the bed at dawn, Juliza stroking her face, with the promise of a clean bath, some soup, and medicine to numb the pain. Harold was gone already, so Rose had cried. Now she was just staring at the spot where the dagger had landed. It was gone.    
  
“He raped Myrna.” Rose sighed, as the numbness began to cool her back. The leather strap hitthe floor as it slipped from her lips. “And he made me...” Rose pressed her forehead to her hands as Juliza slicked bandages on her back. “He made me lick her clean... I defiled her. I made her cry. Why didn’t I fight?”    
  
“Your Gra-“ Juliza sighed, stroking Rose’s hair softly. “Rose, you couldn’t have stopped him without risking other lives. Yet, Myrna won’t fear pregnancy, because of the tea you give us. She won’t blame you. Those of us who know, we don’t blame you. We pray for you every morning and night.”    
  
“The gods aren’t real.” Rose huffed, turning to look at her shocked face. “Demons are real, and they aren’t deformed and grotesque. They look like princes and kings.” She stood up slowy and took the towel when Juliza offered it. She dried off as much as she could, but it hurt to move her arms. Luckily her handmaiden turned nurse had brought her a very thin, soft dress that buttoned up the back instead of corseting.    
  
Rose couldn’t stand to be in the bedroom, so she moved to the sitting area, where Juliza had made her a pile of pillows and sheets from her old room, which was now where she just kept her clothes. So she was able to sit and sip her soup and cool water easily. Juliza had already told her Harold had informed the staff she had a stomach illness, and would be in their chambers for a few days.    
  
“I have a confession.” Rose looked up at Juliza’s words, finding her handmaiden hugging her knees with a sorrowful face. “I knew about him, what he does. I’m sorry, but it’s why I asked to be a handmaiden. I wanted to warn you, but when he came home from the war, he was so sweet with you. I thought he had changed.”   
  
“Did he rape you already?” Rose set her empty bowl aside, too drained to be angry at Juliza. Harold had fooled everyone. Thankfully, the woman shook her head. “Then how?”    
  
“I had an older sister, Melinda.” That was news to Rose. Juliza had only ever mentioned her deceased grandmother and parents. “Two years older than me. She was like you, kind, sweet, trusting. Harold was fond of coming to the kitchen and talking to her. One night she snuck out of the window, and I saw him there. I pretend to be asleep.” She heaved a sigh, wiping her eyes with a sleeve. “When she came back, she was crying. She wouldn’t say why, didn’t speak for three days.” Juliza shuddered as tears brewed in her green eyes. “On the fourth day, Prince James and Sir Jack came to call. I was in our small closet, and I listened. They asked Melinda if Harold had hurt her, had raped her. She finally spoke and said no. It had been a man in town, but if she told, I would be killed. James told her lying to the crown prince was a crime, but she denied it still. Then they left.”    
  
“What happened to Melinda?” Rose whispered, afraid the guards she knew were outside would hear. Juliza swallowed, shuddering as her tears dripped down her skin. “She killed herself, didn’t she?” There was no doubt about it. A kitchen girl’s suicide would have been kept quiet, pushed aside and hidden. Just like the woman who had hung herself after her son drowned. Rose froze with a memory of the boy. He’d had blonde hair and Saxon blue eyes. She had no doubt that boy hadn’t wandered into the Kingswood river. He’d been thrown in. He had been Harold’s son.    
  
“Yes, and you came to court only months later. I saw Harold walking you up, saw him looking at you like he looked at her. I thought Prince James would keep you safe. Then he was killed, and... I’m sorry. I should have told you.” Juliza broke down, and Rose squeezed her hands softly, though it pained her to reach over.    
  
“Prince James was just as vile as Harold.” Rose hated to ruin another woman’s memory of the facade her dead betrothed had worn. “Harold doesn’t lie, and he said James taught him how to cover his tracks. What you saw was him checking to see if Melinda had been threatened enough.”    
  
“No.” Juliza shook her head fervently. “No, because Sir Jack came to me later, and he told me to never be alone with Harold. To come to him immediately if he ever tried to coerce me into going riding in the Kingswood or for a walk in the gardens at night.”    
  
“And did he?” Rose was curious, but Juliza shook her head some more. Maybe Jack wasn’t privy to the Princes’ games, but Harold didn’t lie to her, ever. He may speak in veiled truths, but never a lie. The wounds on her back spoke the evidence of that.    
  
Juliza squeezed Rose’s fingers softly. “I shouldn’t be troubling you with this. You should be resting. Lie down on your stomach, and I’ll put more numbing salve on, Your Grace”    
  
“Juliza, inside these rooms, I’m no Queen.” Rose hissed, slowly lying on her stomach. “I’m a slave. Do you not see the collar?” Harold made her wear them every day. He would pick one, change it out with the one she was wearing, and Rose would have to find a dress that matched it. Juliza eased her dress up, slowly, gently peeling the bandages up.    
  
While the salve did take the pain away from the surface wounds, it did nothing to touch the aching deep in her muscles, the throbbing in her joints from being bound, the cramping in her core, or the pain from the other cuts and bruises along her body. “Harold won’t let me take anything for the pain. ‘M so tired.”    
  
“I know, but he didn’t say I couldn’t fetch you mulled wine from the kitchens.” Juliza’s voice told Rose that there would be something else in the wine, not pain relief. “I’ll go fetch it and make sure the girls take their tea. You try to relax, your Grace.”    
  
Rose begged for sleep, but she couldn’t quite achieve it. She had one since stop wanting her parents, had given up on hope for rescue. Her life was no fairytale, no curse that could be broken by a kiss or a potion. She had only herself to depend on, not for protection, but to keep going. Rose had to stay alive. It occurred to her, as she drifted in and out of the haze of her pain, that if she had killed herself, then she would simply be subjecting another woman to this fate. It had been foolish to think her parents would ever have seen her bare body. Harold would have been the one to do the anointing. He was her husband. Nobody would have seen the truth. So, she couldn’t try it again, because she wouldn’t put her freedom in death above another woman’s safety.    
  
Juliza returned with the wine, some fresh bread, and news that she had caught Myrna trying to hang herself. As the head handmaiden, she had ordered her to be kept in eyesight by the others at all times. Rose couldn’t blame the girl, after all, she had tried the same thing. So she drank the wine and nibbled the bread before lying back down. “You won’t dream.” Juliza whispered, stroking Rose’s hair. “I’ll rouse you just after noon for another washing and lunch.” Rose nodded, and then she knew nothing but absolute, peaceful, liberating oblivion.    
  
When she began to stir, she was confused, disoriented, and afraid, not for herself, but someone else. Why was she afraid? “Don’t lie to me, Juliza!” Sarah Jane’s furious whisper made Rose open her eyes. The women were kneeling on either side of her, and she was vaguely aware that she had been slipped from her dress. She was so hot, yet freezing all at once, her head pounding, and she knew it was a fever. Her mind registered it almost detached from the panic swelling inside of her. Sarah Jane was in the room.   
  
“She fell trying to get to the chamberpot.” Juliza hissed back. “She knocked over the King’s dagger collection and landed on it. I’m not lying!”    
  
“‘M fine.” Rose groaned as she reached for Sarah Jane’s hand. “Juliza isn’t lying. Just go Sarah Jane.” She had to leave, to believe the lie. Harold would spare her if she bought it. “Please.” She pushed herself up to sit, regretting it instantly as her bruised and scabbed abdomen made Sarah Jane cover her mouth. “I fell into a bramble bush riding last week.” Rose offered lamely. “Juliza, help me to the bathroom.” Rose extended an arm to her handmaiden, needing to be in the cool water. Her back was on fire, and it poured down into her legs.    
  
“I’ve witnessed enough whippings to know lash marks, my Queen.” Sarah Jane seized up her other arm, and Rose cried out as they helped her to her feet. “Stop lying. These are already festered!”   
  
“Sarah Jane, if you have ever loved me, you will leave and say I am sick.” Rose stumbled with them as they guided her to the tub of cool, fresh water filled with medicinal herbs. Then Rose remembered she didn’t answer to anyone but Harold anymore. “As your Queen, I command you to leave. If you don’t, I will dismiss you from the castle.”    
  
“Rose!” Sarah Jane gasped in shock, as Rose slid into the tub, curled her arms on the stone rim, and let her head fall onto them. The silence was deafening, as Rose felt three years of friendship crumble into dust. “Yes, your Grace.”    
  
Rose didn’t look up as her footsteps retreated. She just shivered and burned, tears leaking out as Juliza pressed the leather strap against her lips. She bit into the bitterness of it, sobbing as the water poured onto her wounds. The pain blackened her mind, making her stumble in and out of consciousness. She vaguely registered puking over the edge of the tub, Juliza trying to lift her out and failing. Then there was armor clanking, gloved hands seizing her up by her arm pits, a warm towel wrapped around her. Darkness came again, and she was gagging into a bowl. “Fetch a healer and the King.” Juliza whispered to someone. Then nothing for a blink.   
  
“Rose.” Harold was stroking her hair. “Rose, come back to me. You need to drink.” A spoon was at her lips, and she opened to the bitter taste of medicine. “Swallow, love. There’s a girl.”    
  
“It burns.” She whined, gagging as her stomach threatened to reject what she had taken. “You said you wouldn’t kill me.” She ached all over, could feel the throbbing of infection in her back.    
  
“I shouldn’t have let you sleep so long. I’m sorry. You should have been washed immediately.” His lips were on her shoulder, cold against her fevered skin. Rose closed her eyes, wanting to sleep some more. Sleep was bliss, and escape from how freezing and blazing she was all at once. “No, don’t go back to sleep. Stay awake for me, and I won’t physically hurt you or anyone else for a week.” Harold didn’t lie, so Rose forced her eyelids up. “There’s my beautiful Blossom.”    
  
The pain began to lessen, and Rose whimpered as she realized he had given her something for it. “I don’t want to die.” She managed to choke out, as cold paste was smoothed onto her back. The fever, the infection had to be bad if he had left his duties to tend to her.    
  
“You won’t. Try to sit up, come to me.” Rose shook her head, but his hands went under her arms, and she was laying against his chest as he reclined on the pillows.    
  
“The fever will break soon, your Majesties.” Patrick’s gruff voice said confidently. “She needs to stay off her back and elevated for at least four more days. The wounds must be able to drain and close.” Then they were alone, except for a whimpering noise beyond the door to the ensuite.    
  
Rose lifted her eyes, surprised to find Harold’s lip busted and his cheek red. “I didn’t... did I?” Panic worked through her fevered state, as he shook his head and frowned. “I’m sorry! I don’t remember. Don’t punish me.”    
  
“Juliza, bring Sarah Jane out.” Harold called, sitting up straighter, cradling Rose in her lap. “Now, Rose love, what did I say about letting anyone but Juliza, Patrick, or I seeing you naked.”    
  
“No!” Rose tumbled away from his arms, trying to crawl across the sheets to get to the women, who were standing in the room. Sarah Jane was bleeding from her nose, with heavy manacles around her wrists.    
  
“You were supposed to tell Kirshwin when he took post not to let anyone in, but you didn’t, did you?” Rose hadn’t. She had forgotten in her own pain and anguish. “So when she showed up with your lunch, he let her pass. Then, as I was coming to check on you, she burst into my office and punched me.”    
  
“I told her to leave.” Rose stumbled to her feet, the room spinning dangerously as she clung to Sarah Jane. “Why didn’t you just leave! I commanded you to leave!”    
  
“Because this is wrong!” Sarah Jane screamed, staring at Harold over her head. “You’re going to kill her!”    
  
“I would never even dream about killing my wife.” Harold snapped, pulling Rose to him by her hips. If she were stronger, not so weak, so trembling from fever and exhaustion, Rose would have resisted. As it were, he was the only thing keeping her feet under her. “Rose, I promised not to physically hurt you or anyone, so your punishment can’t be on your skin and I can’t kill Sarah Jane myself can I?” Rose shook her head, blinking in confusion. “Sarah Jane, kneel!” He barked over her head, the loudness making her flinch. Sarah Jane spat on the floor. “Juliza, I command you to put Sarah Jane on her knees!”    
  
Juliza was silently sobbing as she shoved Sarah Jane down, holding her in place. “I nursed you from my own breasts! I treated you like a son!” Sarah Jane raged, blood dripping from her upper lip. Rose watched in detached fear as the droplet came loose and stained the rug. “You are a monster!”    
  
“Rose,” Harold kissed her hair again, drawing her blurry vision up. “You know the rules. If you let anyone find out, one of your family dies. This was an accident, I know, so I have an alternative. If you kill Sarah Jane yourself, I won’t harm anyone. Refuse, and I will have little Tony drowned.” Rose’s legs gave out as understanding flushed through the sweat and pain. “She’s going to be executed for striking me at the end of the week anyway, so it really is an easy choice.” He eased her to the floor, not touching her wounds in the least.    
  
“Harry, please... I can’t.” Rose clung to his shirt, imploring him with his eyes. This was her punishment, she realized through the mindfogging fever and burning pain. “Whip me again, cut me, choke me, anything but make me kill her.”    
  
“I’m getting impatient.” Harold arched and eyebrow, his face pulling down into a frown. “Choose, now.”    
  
Rose was trapped, and even in her confused state she knew that. Harold needed to clean up any witnesses, and Rose had to be punished. He couldn’t physically hurt her, just as he promised, he was going to emotionally beat her instead. Would she have Sarah Jane’s blood on her hands, or Tony’s? How could she choose?   
  
“ Rose he’s going to kill me in seven days anyways.” Sarah Jane‘s voice was soft, imploring as Rose met her eyes. “ Tony is so little, and I’m old. Choose me, kill me Rose.” The soft request made Rose’ stomach turn, and the would went sideways and flickered. She was sweating now, and it slicked her bare skin, stinging all the cuts. “ I forgive you, Rose, but I’ll never forgive him.” There it was, Sarah Jane trying to keep Rose from suffering.    
  
“I’ll kill her.” Rose sighed, weakly raising a hand for a dagger or a knife. She could barely keep her arm lifted, and she blinked in confusion when Harold took her fingers and closed rhem around a vial full of clear liquid. “Poison?”    
  
“An invention of mine. Small doses over a week or so will weaken the heart. You’ve seen it’s effectiveness first hand, on my Father.” Harold helped her by bracing her forearm as Sarah Jane parted her lips. “This amount will kill in minutes, as it stops the heart. I need this done so you can rest.”    
  
Rose nodded, swallowing against her raw and burning throat. She tried to hold Sarah Jane’s eyes, as she tilted the vial up, but the woman only stared at Harold, eyes damning as they flashed. She swallowed it all in a gulp. “I love you, Sarah Jane.” She sobbed as Harold took the vial and tossed it across the room to shatter in the fireplace.   
  
“You’re the daughter I never had.” Sarah Jane gasped, and she touched her hands softly. “Don’t give up.” Her face twisted in pain, and Rose wanted to hold her.    
  
“Juliza, get Sarah Jane out of here and have Kirshwin uncuff her.” Harold snapped, holding Rose up by the head so she was forced to watch Sarah Jane stumble from the room, gasping and clutching at her chest. The door shut, and they were alone. Rose was crying too hard, feeling too weak and fragile to resist as he took her under the arms, pulled her to her feet, and eased her back onto the bed. “Lie still, I have cold rags for your fever.” She couldn’t move anywhere, as the guilt crashed into her. This was her fault, she had done this. She had tried to kill herself, had brought the lashings, had caused Sarah Jane to worry enough to check on her.    
  
“Please, can’t you let me suffer in peace?” Rose croaked as Harold began stroking the cold, wet cloths along her burning skin. All she wanted to do was fight, to kill him, to make him hurt as he had done to her and others, but she couldn’t. Rose couldn’t even lift her head. The knowledge of what she had caused was dragging her down, drowning her and suffocating her all at once. His caring touches only made it worse.    
  
“I’m not leaving you until your fever breaks.” Harold sighed as if she was a child pouting over not getting a treat.    
  
“Why do you even care.” Rose breathed the words out, tasting her tears and snot on her lips. The world didn’t make sense. How could he make her do these things, beat her inside and out, and then act the devoted, loving husband?    
  
“Because I’m not done with you yet, my Blossom.” Harold’s lips were chilly as they pressed against her shoulder. Then he was on the bed, reclining against the pillows with one leg open and flat, the other bent. “Come here and sleep. Your wounds need to drain.” For once Rose didn’t want to refuse him, because sleep was all she wanted, and it ached too much to lie flat. So she let him pull her onto his chest, her bare legs curled between his, and she closed her eyes, letting her tears and snot stain his shirt. Sleep came swiftly, and Sarah Jane’s smile haunted her as she slipped under. Thankfully it disappeared, and Rose knew nothing but darkness.    
  
Somewhere north of Clom’s harbors, James was hoisting a sail beside Jack, who was pulling the ropes just as fervently in the late sweltering, afternoon sun. He shook his head, as a chill shot down his spine, though the breeze was humid and heavy. “Someone walked-“   
  
“Over my grave.” Jack murmured, and their eyes met, seeing the other’s goosebumps. Both froze in their movements, breath catching. “You felt that?”   
  
“Yes.” James sniffed the air, closing his eyes as a long forgotten perfume filled his nostrils. It was sweetpea and peppermint. “Sarah-“   
  
“Jane.” Jack gasped, his eyes fluttering open. They both swallowed, afraid to speak what they were both dreading. “No, I’m sure we just imagined it.”    
  
“Both of us?” James wasn’t one to believe in gods or an afterlife anymore, but somehow he just knew it wasn’t imagination. He knew it as fully as he had when he was five, and Sarah Jane had come out of his parents room carrying Harold to her breast, his whimpers easing as he suckled the milk meant for the daughter she had lost to a fever not three days before. She was gone.    
  
“I hope it was peaceful.” Jack swallowed, blinking rapidly, before he resumed pulling.    
  
James had to squeeze his own eyes shut for five more pulls, as he thought his goodbyes and turned his determination towards Karn.    
  
  
  


 


	23. Chapter 23

One of the things that Rose hated the most about Harold, was that he was actually a good ruler. Harold had a simple philosophy when it came to the kingdom: The more powerful the country, the more powerful the King. He loved his power. Knew there had to be some underlying plan, some endgame he was getting at. She didn’t dare to ask, though, just began keeping watch on the topics he paid the most attention to.    
  
Gallifrey was thriving, as their increased trade had brought more work to the land. Citizens were happy, markets were bustling, and crime, apart from the normal banditry, had seen a dramatic decrease. Then again, that was partly because Harold had been strictly enforcing the laws since his coronation. Rose’s focus remained largely on the subtle inner workings of the kingdom. She understood that the average citizen was the backbone of the nation, and after her council meetings she listened to the every day plights from her throne.    
  
Some days it was anything from dried wells in a neighboring village to seeking a right to homestead an abandoned farm. Other days she had couples coming for blessings on marriages that parents disapproved, or arguments over inheritance. Each item seemed small to others, but to her, they were as important as signing a new law.    
  
Every Wednesday and Friday, however, Rose went to her people. She rode into the city with a small guard escort and one or two handmaidens. Her first stop was always the orphanage, checking on her children and basking in the genuine love and affection they brought her. Then she would walk and talk, sometimes buying things, other times just sitting with the elder citizens and listening. Always though, she looked to see if she saw another her, another fake smile, more long sleeves in the summer heat, or a pair of eyes that skirted away from their smiling husband.   
  
Sometimes she found one, noting their names, their husband’s occupation, and if they had children. She would ask the women small questions, simple ones that only fellow victims would understand. Questions like “Sometimes wives just get clumsy, don’t we?” Or “Sometimes a calm man is more terrifying than an angry one, am I right?” And always “If you weren’t married, where would you go?” Then she would hold their eyes, touch their fingers softly, and let them know she knew. If they squeezed hers back, answered the last question, the next time she came to town, she would slip them a bag of gold and a decree of divorce and custody with her signature and seal. It had only taken four rescues before the word spread in the women’s circles that she was saving women, and her second trip was often to a woman with a packed bag. If the women knew she was just as battered, they never let on. She was always careful that the gold came out of her personal spending allowance, money intended to pay for her dresses, jewels, and such. She never took from the Castle treasury.    
  
She found that these acts were tiny in the grand-scheme of things, but each tearful whisper of thank you, each bruised eye child who looked hopeful, look a piece of her with them. Rose was defying her own captivity by watching others run to freedom. They had become her hope over the two months since Harold had turned from loving fiancé to grotesque demon. Sometimes they made her so happy, as they disappeared from the city, that she found herself humming as Astraea trotted her way back to the castle. When she passed under the portcullis, the music always died.    
  
“The King is requesting you in the throne room.” A guard, Fredrickson, advised her as he held Astraea’s reins for her to dismount. He was one of the remaining fifteen that had been kept from the ones she remembered before Rassilon died. Harold had said something about him being to skilled with a sword to let go. He was always at the front doors or at the portcullis. If he knew the truth, he didn’t speak on it. Rose suspected only the guards Harold deemed most loyal did. “With a group of rather disgruntled men from town.”    
  
“Well shite.” Rose swore, smoothing her skirts as Fredrickson stifled a chuckle at her words. “A Queen can’t be perfectly spoken all the time, Fredrickson. Especially not when she’s in trouble.” She drew herself up, ignoring the phantom twinges that still pulled the healed lash marks from almost four weeks before, on occasion, reached up to make sure her crown was centered, and then started up the steps.    
  
“How angry is he?” Rose asked Juliza who was waiting inside holding a goblet of water. Rose traded out her riding gloves to chug it down.    
  
“He’s actually been smirking this whole time, and not that smirk.” Juliza took the empty goblet from her as they strode up the hall to the door. Rose knew exactly what smirk she meant. It was the ‘just wait until after dinner’ smirk. “But the men have been in an uproar. Two had to had to be restrained. What did you do?” Rose had given Juliza and her other handmaidens permission to dispense with courtesies outside of formal functions. It was no secret to any of them now that she was only Queen during daylight hours.    
  
“Saved women like me.” Rose snorted, honestly not caring that the men were livid. She knew it would get back to Harold eventually, just not like this. The conundrum she had stuck him in now made it worth the coming beating. She hadn’t broken any rules. She hadn’t directly defied his orders. Should he overturn her official decrees, then the women of the kingdom would become agitated. “Open the damn door.” Rose growled at the guards, Lycaster and Montesque, they were more of Harold’s. “And snap to attention for your Queen!” They both glared at her as they clicked their boots together before opening the door.   
  
She was greeted by a group of twenty or so men, faces she loathed from the town, all merging in on her. Their voices were chaos, calling her homewrecker, child stealer, and other choice slurs. One man reached for her, and Rose moved. She wasn’t locked in her cage now, and Harold insisted she be armed outside of the castle. Her dagger flashed in the sunlight from the windows, the tip at the man’s throat. She’d killed before, and this man was worthless compared to Sarah Jane. “How dare you?! I am Queen!” She roared, before the guards even realized she was in danger. “Back down, now, or I will cut your tongue out by the root!” The room went silent, as the man’s hand fell. “Kirshwin! Take this trash into custody for attempted assault of the Queen. The rest of you, out of my way.” The men parted, and she saw Harold standing halfway down the steps with his sword half drawn.   
  
“Bring him to me!” Harold commanded, as Kirshwin grabbed the man by the throat. Rose led them to him, holding his gaze as she lifted her head proudly, twirling her dagger in her fingers. His eyes flashed to it, brow furrowing, sword sliding out even more, and Rose quickly returned it to the sheath in her dress folds. She offered him a smug smile, as she mounted the steps to stand behind him in front of her throne,  knowing he couldn’t knock it off of her right now. She’d pay for it later, but it was the small victories she lived for. “This the man who tried to hurt you, my love?” His blade fully extracted as he moved to the bottom step, and he touched the point to the man’s chest as Kirshwin forced him to his knees.    
  
“He tried, but I was quicker.” Rose held herself confidently as she arched an eyebrow out at the group of men below her. “Guess he wasn’t use to a wife fighting back.” If looks could kill, Rose would be dead twenty times over. They didn’t scare her, didn’t intimidate her. They were nothing compared to the demon at the base of the steps.    
  
“Did you forget, sir.” Harold growled, and Rose could picture the seething lethality in his eyes even though his back was to her. “That she is my wife, my Queen, and you dared!” He shouted the word, and Rose resisted rolling her eyes. Harold was fuming, but only because someone had tried to touch his favorite toy. “To even try laying a finger on her. I should gut you now for this!” Nobody was allowed to mar her skin but him. The man was such a hypocrite. “But Queen Rose called for your arrest before I could claim it, so it’s up to her how you will be punished.”   
  
“Hard labor in the salt quarries outside of Arcadia for five years.” She knew very well his exwife was well on her way to a fishing village near the Noble estate, because she missed home. “And your pottery store will be seized, sold off, and the proceeds will go to the homeless.” She smirked at the man, refusing to even think his name, because he was lower than slime on a slug.    
  
“Bitch!” The man yowled, as Kirshwin yanked him to his feet. “You cost me my wife and daughter! You meddling cunt!” Kirshwin looked at Harold, who tilted his head back at Rose, and then his eyes went to hers.    
  
“Insults don’t bother me, Kirshwin. Take him away to the cells to await transport.” She got a curt bow from the guard as the man was dragged out. The room was so silent Rose could hear nineteen jaws grinding. “You wanted to see me, my King.” Harold sheathed his sword, turning to mount the stairs. His blue eyes danced as they looked her over, and she knew he was amused. Her punishment would be extra painful. She’d have to have Juliza sneak her some pain medicine in her wine at dinner. Rose smoothed her skirts behind her as she sat down on her throne. “You ‘men’.” She sneered sarcasm into the word. “Kneel and keep silent while my husband and I discuss something!” She turned her face back to Harold, as he settled into his own throne on her,   
right, tapping a finger on the armrest. “Yes, dear.” She knew how to play her part in front of others. She must be a happy young wife, or he would be an angry Master later. Angry meant she wouldn’t sit well for three days, possibly spend the night chained to a wall, or forced to watch him ruin someone else. Happy meant she’d get knocked around a bit, few new small cuts, violated, then allowed to sleep.   
  
“You were very, very bad.” Harold whispered low enough only she would hear, giving her that smirk. Rose refused to flinch, to swallow, or to look away. “But very, very clever. I take it these men all share my penchant for breaking defiant wives.” His fingers twitched on his own arm rest, and Rose knew they were itching to be around her throat or the hilt of a knife on her skin. “You didn’t say anything to the wives, now did you?”   
  
“I thought you said I was clever.” Rose murmured, casting a side glance at the kneeling men to make them think they were discussing what they told him. “I know how to act, keep my mouth shut. I simply asked questions, looked for myself in their eyes, and gave them what you’ll never give me. I didn’t break any rules.” She had made sure of that, took meticulous mental notes of every word he said to insure she didn’t. “I’m assuming these men are petitioning you to overrule my signature and seal on the divorces.”    
  
“Yes, and therein lies the problem. I promised you would be recognized and treated as Queen.” Harold pretended to adjust his sleeve, and Rose saw the flash of his favorite knife to use on her inside. She didn’t let him see it phase her. “Now, if I overrule you, I not only make myself a liar, I risk having every woman in the damned kingdom calling for my head.” Exactly what Rose knew would happen, and she gave him her sweetest smile. “Yet if I let this go, you’ll keep finding other ways to defy me.” His smirk twisted up more. “But you didn’t break any rules, so I’ll have to think of a way to hurt your ego, make those delicious tears spill.”    
  
“I haven’t cried since Sarah Jane died, and I won’t start now.” Rose didn’t let herself sneer. She had to keep up the facade, even to the pond scum nearby. She could see Harold trying to find some way to knock her down, a word, a threat, anything to shut her up without promises broken. “So, husband,” she reached over to cover his hand, acting as if they were mutually agreeing to an answer to all those watching. “Are you going to tell them or should I?”   
  
Harold pinched the skin of her palm with sharp pull nobody could see. Then he released it with a sudden inhale, his eyes widening as he looked her face over. Rose was thoroughly confused, but didn’t have a chance to ask. “You start with them. I want to see what’s going through that rebellious mind of yours, Blossom.” He murmured, voice full of the faux affection he had once wooed her with. His fingers came up to touch the underside of her chin, and then he turned back to the men.    
  
Rose turned as well, disgust at every man in the room, especially Harold, welling up to a cold rage inside of her. “You came here today, to petition your King to overturn divorces that I legally declared.” She stood up, keeping her voice level, but not hiding her anger by sharpening it, enunciating every word pristinely and confidently. “Did you tell him that you beat your wives? Did you tell him that some of you beat your children?” Heads lifted, some mouths opening, but she raised a hand, silencing them. Rose was Queen, and she was damn well going to prove it. “No, you didn’t. I’m sure many of you even broke your wedding vows, seeking other lovers, but that I can’t prove.”    
  
Rose could feel Harold’s eyes burning into her, as she stepped forward. She knew he was keenly listening to every word, waiting to see if she slipped up, if she tried to insult him, insinuate he raised his hands to her, defiled their marriage just as much as these men had defiled theirs. Rose was choosing her words carefully, because she had learned something very crucial in the last two months. One thing Harold had taught her, albeit unintentionally, was how to manipulate the truth without lying.    
  
“Did you think King Harold, a man who leads his men by example, who just moments ago was going to gut a man for raising a hand to his wife, would overturn his Queen’s decisions?” Rose met each man’s eyes, pouring her hatred for them, for what they’d done, into them. “Do you think he is the kind of husband that would beat his wife? Do you think he is the kind of man who would condone violence against children?” He was and he would, but those men didn’t know that. Rose did, as did every guard present. Yet, she wasn’t saying it. “What kind of man would ever be okay with that behavior? I challenge any man here to deny my accusations, but remember, lying to your King and Queen is punishable by two months in a cell.”    
  
“Well, do you of you deny her accusations?” Harold was standing now, his hand resting on her lower back, and she felt the tip of a blade drag down the back of her dress, but it was swiftly gone. No man answered, none refuted her claims. “Well, I see then. I will not overturn her decisions. You are all dismissed.” He waved a hand, but Rose wasn’t done.    
  
“If you try to hunt them down, your former wives, if you try to intimidate them, harm them, steal back the children you abused and terrified, I will know.” Rose kept her voice full of lethal authority. “And I will punish you myself, and believe me when I say I know exactly what it would be.” There were many shattered smirks in the room. “Now, get out of my sight.”    
  
The room emptied swiftly, leaving only her, Harold, and three guards. “Leave us, I have to speak to my wife in private.” He ordered, and Rose braced herself for what was coming as they disappeared. Yet, no strike, no punch, no cut came. Instead Harold turned on her, herding her past the thrones to the wall behind them, and he grabbed her wrists, pinning them beside her head. “You wanted to hurt them, didn’t you?” He groaned, leaning his face down so the taste of his lunch and wine coated her lips with each breath. “You wanted to make them pay, to show them that they are defenseless against your power, didn’t you?”    
  
“Yes.” Rose swallowed, not out of regret, but shock. She had been so caught up in watching them lose, in protecting the women and children, that she hadn’t even realized she was acting just like him. The realization terrified her. The men had deserved it, but when had she become so cold? It didn’t take long to calculate, because it started the day she’d killed Sarah Jane. “Are you angry?”    
  
“Angry?” Harold gave a growling chuckle as he pressed into her, and Rose wanted to take her dagger and stick it in his gut. “I’m pleased.” With that he kissed her, pushing his body flush with hers, moaning as he shoved his tongue into her mouth. Rose gagged at the intrusion, yanked at her arms and struggled to get away from him. She hadn’t planned on this, on him liking her exact her hatred of him on other men. “If I hadn’t promised to keep our games in the royal wing.” He growled, releasing Rose with a heated look. “I would strip that dress off of you here an now.”    
  
“Hooray.” Rose snorted, as he stepped back. “Rape as punishment. Must be Wednesday.” She rubbed her wrists before wiping her mouth, as his lustful smile turned up into a smirk.    
  
“Oh, right, your punishment for sticking me in such a conundrum without warning.” Harold whistled, and two guards reappeared. “Take the Queen’s mare to the grove where we staged the bandit attack, kill her and bury her there.”    
  
“No!” Rose screamed as Harold seized her arm. “No! She doesn’t understand! Master, don’t!” She wasn’t crying, refused to, but she loved Astraea, had been through so much with her. The mare was perfect, so well tempered, loyal, and she loved her. The guards were gone, and Harold was smiling.   
  
“Now, go wait for me in our chambers.” He gave her a gentle push. “I expect to find you on the bed and undressed.” Rose stumbled back, glaring at him as he gestured down to the prominent bulge in his trousers. “You caused this, and I’m not waiting for nightfall to feel you.” Rose hated him, wanted to yank her dagger out and stab him then and there, but she couldn’t. She turned away, before she could cause anyone’s death. “And my Queen, keep freeing their wives. I love the way your hatred for those men makes you vicious.”    
  
Rose’s immediate desire was to defy him, to not let him take pleasure in her actions. Yet, she couldn’t. Those women and children needed her, and their safety and freedom meant more to her than letting her disgust for Harold stop her.    
  
  
  


 


	24. Chapter 24

“We made it.” Jack sighed as they wandered through the crowds at the port. Karn was bustling in the early afternoon light. He slung his arm over Martha’s shoulder, and James chuckled when she batted him away. He shifted her bag of scarce belongings on his back, as he took up post on her other side. “Your contract is up, Martha Jones.”   
  
“And you two finally walk in friendly territory as free men.” Martha looked up at James, and he reached over to tap her nose with a finger. “Home is finally in our hands.”   
  
“First things first, we secure you passage back to Gallifrey.” Jacques had offered to have some of his friends take her, but James had wanted to see her on a passenger vessel and not with more criminals. Technically he was one himself now, since he had proved his dedication to Jacques by setting up a swap on some highly illegal vipers that needed to go from San Kaloon to Clom. His pockets were considerably heavier with his portion of rhe loot. “My treat.”   
  
“Then what?” Martha chuckled, as they made their way further and further from the gaslight. “You walk up to the castle, and demand to see Queen Ohila?”   
  
“Basically.” James was too happy to be pessimistic. By the time Jacques realized they weren’t returning, they would be inside the walls of the palace that shone at the edge of the city, and Martha wouldn’t be at fault. “Now, let’s get to the nearest tavern, have some real drinks, and find you a ship.” They had offered to bring her with them to the castle, but she had declined. James couldn’t blame her. She just wanted to go home.   
  
“Make way!” The authoritative voice carried down the street, and James pulled Martha and Jack back. The clop of hooves was accompanied by the sound of swords. It was probably a squad of guards escorting something from the ship. He looked up, as they drew near, and hope burst fully to light. Queen Ohila was riding past.   
  
“Hail Ohila, Queen of Karn, Keeper of the eternal flame!” James stepped out, raising his hand as he smiled at her, and then he remembered he wasn’t exactly dressed in royal robes and wearing a crown. He groaned as a gauntlet collided with his jaw! He saw stars as he stumbled to the dirt.   
  
“Prince James!” Jack surged forward, pulling him up, only for a guard to knock him down.   
  
“Leave them alone!” Martha skidded into the street, and James scrambled to his feet as she squared up with the soldiers. “On your knees for Prince James of Gallifrey!”   
  
“Prince James is dead, girl!” Queen Ohila’s voice echoed from behind her guard. “How dare you use his name so carelessly.”   
  
“I’m not dead!” James called back, wiping the blood from his lip. He scowled at the guards. He could only imagine how two and some odd years in war, slavery, and at sea had changed him. He had long since stopped looking except to shave. “Jack Harkness and I are right here!”   
  
“I can prove it, Your Majesty! Prove I’m Jack and he is James!” Jack cut in with a laugh, as he winked at James. “Four years ago, you came to the castle for the Yule Gala. We danced, and you commented that the fires in your room didn’t warm you like the air here did, so I offered to bring more wood up, and when I did we-“ Jack’s wickedly pleased grin was cut off by Queen Ohila exclaiming.   
  
“Enough! Let them pass!” The guards parted, and James strode forward with Jack and Martha in tow. He watched as  Ohila dismounted, lowering her hood, her eyes wide and shocked. “By the gods... James!”   
  
“Your Grace.” James bowed at the waist, as Jack mirrored him and Martha curtsied. “As I was saying, I am very much alive.”   
  
“Come here boy!” She pulled him into a hug, and James squeezed his mother’s oldest friend tightly. “Where the hell have you been?!” She pulled away to cup his cheek, before turning to Jack. “Sir Harkness.” Then she hugged him fiercely too. “I can’t believe it’s you... and who is this young woman?”   
  
“Martha Jones, your Grace.” Martha smiled respectfully. “I’m just a healer.”   
  
“Just a healer my crown.” James laughed as he caught sight of the crew mingling with the growing crowd. Jacques looked positively shocked. “She’s been keeping us alive for the last two years!”   
  
“Come all of you! To the castle! We must send a messenger to Gallifrey. King Harold will-“   
  
“No!” James, Martha, and Jack all protested so loudly that Ohila blinked. “First, we need to tell you where we’ve been!” He whispered softly. “And we need to secure Martha passage home to her family.”   
  
“That will all be arranged.” Ohila turned to two of her mounted guards. “Give them your horses, forget the port inspections for now.” Then, as if registering that their return should be secret she added. “These events are not to leave this street until I say so.” She mounted, and James pulled himself up into a saddle. He extended a hand to Martha, swinging her up as well.   
  
“I forgot how damned uncomfortable saddles are.” Jack huffed as he mounted, and James snorted. He was right. After so long just walking, being back in the saddle took some adjusting to. Queen Ohila looked at them, as if she still couldn’t believe they were real. “Lead the way, Beautiful Queen.” Jack flashed her a wink, and James heard Martha giggle as Ohila blushed and signaled her guard.   
  
It was a short ride to the palace, and in no time they found themselves in Ohila’s office, drinking cold wine, and enjoying real, fresh food. Martha was looking around at the bright colors and expensive decorations in awe, and he patted her shoulder affectionately to ease her. “So I should start at the beginning, the war in Skaro.”   
  
“What happened? How did you survive? Your whole company was ambushed, beheaded, and burned!” Ohila looked utterly confused, and James couldn’t blame her a bit. He swallowed hard, feeling the sting of the loss of his men, even though it had been years.   
  
“I don’t remember most of it. Jack and I were drugged, some hallucinogenic. I got most of the dose, so all I remember was eating dinner and waking up soaking wet in the custody of a Dalek prisoner of war wagon.” He nodded to Jack, heaving a sigh. “He got a smaller dose, said I wandered from camp calling for Rose.” Ohila grimaced in sympathy, as if just now realizing that she was meant to be his queen. “He was hallucinating us being attacked by Daleks, probably because he heard the fighting. Says he tackled me, and we ended up falling in the river.”   
  
“Nobody ever survived being a Dalek captive. How did you two?”   
  
“Our guards decided they’d make more money selling us into slavery than killing us when the war ended.” Jack offered with a shake of his head. James nodded to confirm it, wondering just how lucky they had been to have been gotten out of there. “We ended up on a Gelth ship called the Gaslight, collared and chained, where we met Martha here. She recognized James immediately, but kept our secret.”   
  
“It wasn’t easy, considering how many times Ja...the Prince almost blew it.” Martha looked down, as if unsure she had slipped up by acting so familiar.   
  
“Martha, You never have to worry about using my name.” After two years, it was habit to tug her ponytail in a playful way, earning himself a bright smile. She had become as dear to him as Jack.   
  
“Is she to be your new princess?” Ohila smiled at them, and Jack choked on his wine as he snorted. “What, it’s obvious you care for her.”   
  
“Like a sister!” James felt his face flush as Martha covered her face as she giggled. “She’s engaged! I love R-“ he cut himself off, his fist clenching as he remembered Rose was married to Harold, was probably black and blue. Everyone was silent, so he continued. “It took us until four months ago to earn Jacques’ trust enough to have our collars removed. Before that we were kept chained during the day and in ports. This is our fourth time in Karn’s ports, but our first as free men. We were coming to you when you found us.”   
  
“You were collared?” Ohila’s face turned into a worried frown, and James nodded. He pulled down the collar of his shirt to show her the thick scars where the metal had rubbed and chaffed his clavicles and shoulders for two years. He tensed as she leaned forward, her fingers touching the knotted tissue softly. “Oh James... you’ve missed so much. I don’t know how to tell you this...”   
  
“My father is dead. Harold is king, and he married Rose.” James huffed leaning away. “Martha would bring us news from port. Our initial plan was to get her to send a coded message that we were alive, but she was only allowed in ports every few months. The one time she was going to, we heard about Father, and she couldn’t send it.”   
  
“You could have. Harold would have sent the entire fleet to rescue you.” Ohila looked between them, as if she didn’t understand why they hadn’t done it. Jack and James shared a look, wondering if she could be trusted with that much information. Jack still thought Harold had set them up to be drugged, and James wanted to think the same if he hadn’t been miles away fighting. “You don’t think he would have? That’s nonsense, Harold lost his mind with grief when they found your camp. He led the assault on Davros personally, and then he beheaded him on the steps of his own castle in your name.”   
  
“Harold is a monster. He ordered his own daughter killed!” Martha sneered, crossing her arms and staring at the queen like she was stupid. “Luckily, even smugglers have honor enough not to kill an infant.”   
  
“Rose and Harold have only been married three months, and no pregnancy announcement has been made.” Ohila bristled, her eyes flashing with doubt as he took them in. “How could he have ordered an unborn child killed?”   
  
“Thank the stars.” James was beyond relieved to hear Rose wasn’t pregnant, yet. “But it was before the wedding. Ohila, my brother is insane. He has a thing for raping women, particularly virgins.” He leaned forward, whispering as if afraid they be overheard. “I was working hard to expose it when the war started. I had no real proof until Jacques got hired to take care of a victim who ended up pregnant and fled before we left for war.” Ohila opened her mouth, but James held up a hand. “The crew was supposed to kill the girl and the baby, who I named Anthea, but Jacques ordered Thea be brought on board. He was hired by Harold’s men to fo it. They openly admitted it was his child. I held her, cared for her for the four month journey to Skaro where Jacques left her with some silk merchants who couldn’t have children. She had his hair, our family’s eyes, and my mother’s smile.”   
  
Ohila stared directly into hid eyes, as if looking for some sign of deceit. “Swear to me, swear to me on something that matters.” She whispered firmly.   
  
“I swear it on my mother’s grave.” James didn’t break away from her stare. “On the eternal flame your family has guarded for a thousand years. If you were to send men right now to the city if Skaro’s northern port, you will find a silk merchant and wife. They will have a little girl with Saxon blue eyes and blonde curls, and her name is Anthea.”   
  
Ohila leaned back, exhaling and nodding. “There was speculation on your father’s death. He was strong, barely fifty, and to suffer a failing of the heart was unthinkable.” She looked over at her desk, at the piles of parchment and books. “But Harold has proven to be a king that will be remembered. Gallifrey is thriving, leading trade and production, and in two years only the most furthest corners are still in poverty. Crime is minimal, and Rose is already proven herself to be just as benevolent a ruler. Harold built an orphanage and school in the Capitol at her request. There’s talks of another being built in Arcadia.” Harold built an orphanage for Rose? Why in the hell would he have done that? “If you return now, the kingdom will be in an uproar. You were meant to rule.”   
  
“Which is why I must go back. I have to see this for myself, know he isn’t hurting Gallifrey, hurting Rose.” James dragged his hands over his face, refusing to imagine the sick way Harold must be behaving when nobody of import was looking. “You can’t send word to him that I’m coming. Believe me, Ohila, I would be dead before I made it two days inland.”   
  
“I trust you, James. I just can’t let Karn be caught up if you divide Gallifrey into a civil war.” She folded her hands, looking at the trio. James could see the conflict on her face. “I will help you get home. I’ll arrange an escort for you, as if you were an emissary from Karn. We are due to send one for new trade talks before winter anyways. They are leaving in three days time.”   
  
“Thank you.” James relaxed. He couldn’t ask her to pick a side now, not without proof. “And thank you for believing me. I will make sure you are properly compensated for hosting us, granting us asylum.”   
  
“Compensated? Nonsense. Idris will come from the grave to haunt me if I took repayment.” Ohila laughed as she waved a hand, and James found himself genuinely smiling for the first time in two years. This wasn’t home, but Ohila had been so close to his mother. “For now, let’s get you three bathed and into proper clothing, unless shaggy hair and a four day beard is how you plan to return home.”   
  
“A proper bath? Like with soap and scented oils?” Martha piped up, causing Ohila to turn her smile on her. James swore her ebony cheeks darkened just a bit more. “I mean, thank you, your Grace.”   
  
“Tosh with the pleasantries, child.” Ohila chuckled, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “James named you like a sister, and as long as he holds to that, you will be treated as such. I’ll make sure you are properly cared for before I send you on my personal traveling ship in the morning.”   
  
“You sure you don’t want to stay three more days Martha?” James watched as Jack tempted her with a smile. “You could see how a royal feast is done in Karn. Who knows, we might get James drunk enough to sing.”   
  
James shot Jack an exasperated look, but Martha’s face split into a grin. “What’s three more days, if it’s okay with the Queen.”   
  
“Then it’s settled. I’ll have you shown to your rooms and clothes delivered.” Ohila clapped her hands and stood. James followed suit, tossing his arm over Martha’s shoulder as Jack chugged the last of his wine. “And I think one of my son’s old crowns might fit you James. It’s high time you wore one again.”   
  
“I’d be honored to wear it.” He nodded. Then the three were shuffled off by various servants.   
  
James was taken to the room he had used anytime he came to Karn, and the hot, fragrant bath was bliss. He stared into the mirror, as he pulled on the flowing, brightly colored robes of Karn, and the intricate gold crown fit snugly on his head. The weight felt odd, almost as heavy as his collar had, and as his reflection stared back, he didn’t recognize the man there. Gone were his boyish cheeks and smooth skin. His eyes sat a bit deeper than they ever had, and the sun and wind whipped skin had aged him at least ten years. Despite being nearly twenty-seven when the war started, it had been a boy in the mirror back home. Now he was a man, had experienced things, seen things that he would have been sheltered from in Gallifrey. He brushed those thoughts aside. He was going home. For now, he was safe. Martha and Jack were safe, and when he joined them in the hall, he smiled.   
  
Martha had been dressed like a princess, complete with her hair throughly washed, oiled, and pulled up into a lovely style. A thin gold tiara with pearls rested on her brow, and her scrubbed skin practically glowed and shined with lotions. Jack was just as polished and pristine, only missing a crown of his own. James snapped to attention as Jack bowed, and then he bent at the waist to extend his respects to a giggling Martha. “Shall we to dinner, little sister?” He chuckled, extending his elbow as he straightened.   
  
“We shall, your Highness.” Martha looped his arms through his, and together their group made their way to three days of temporary paradise.   
  
Rose was enjoying one of her rare afternoons of free time. She had already finished with the council meetings, held court, reviewed everything she had been given to look over, and had gone out into the gardens to breathe in the fresh air. There was only a month or so left of summer, and normally she would have enjoyed going for a ride. Yet, Astraea was gone, and none of the mares in the stable were quite as delightful to take into the Kingswood.   
  
She watched, from where she was standing, as a few of her handmaidens splashed in the spring with some of the children of the staff. It was easy, in moments like this, to pretend that her life wasn’t a continuous nightmare. The last week had been brutal, as her family had come to visit for Tony’s name day. Rose had been on her very, very best behavior. Sometimes she had even fooled herself with how well she played the part of adoring wife and Queen. Harold had basked in it, the way she eagerly took his hand, hugged him, kissed him sweetly at dinners or when he offered to take Tony out to ride Thanatos in the grounds.   
  
She had lied expertly when the subject of possible children had come up. Her mum praised how good Harold was with Tony, kept dropping old wives tales and tips about how best to conceive. “Rose will conceive when the time is right.” Harold had chuckled when he walked in on a conversation. The idea repulsed her. The thought of carrying his child, possibly giving birth to a boy just like him, or worse, a girl was torture. Somehow, she doubted any girl children would live past a few months. Harold had such a low opinion of women.   
  
She smiled as one of the children demonstrated their ability to dive almost to the bottom, popping out of the water with a loud laugh. It made Rose so happy to see her girls enjoying themselves. They needed this as much as she did, a moment of peace, where the sun was bright, sky clear, and monsters were locked away behind the stone walls. A blindfold came over her eyes, and Rose died inside all over again.   
  
“Mmm, the way you smile is exquisite.” Harold whispered in her ear as he knotted the black scarf. Rose tensed as he wrapped his arms around her waist pressing his lips against her neck. “I have a present for you, Blossom. I think you’ll enjoy it.”   
  
“The last time you blindfolded me, I ended up finding out you like to defile virgins.” Rose responded flatly, earning her an amused chuckle as he slid his lips up to catch her ear. “Do I have a choice to say no?”   
  
“No, but honestly, you’ll really like this one. I promise.” Harold turned her, taking her hand and leading her forward. “Tell me, my Queen, why when I was looking over the supply invoices for the castle, there was a substantial increase in the ingredients for your tea. The amounts ordered would keep your stock full for almost three years.” He stroked her knuckles, and Rose hand to force herself not to jerk away. “Surely you don’t think I wouldn’t notice.”   
  
“Precautionary measures.” Rose replied quickly, trying to decipher the path he was on. They were heading out of the gardens, but where? What gift could he possibly have for her? Her reward for behaving with her parents had been three days of no beatings or floggings or slicings, just his normal nightly and morning ritual of leaving her sore and messy.   
  
“Precautionary measures, as in you are giving it to your handmaidens?” Harold’s words made Rose’s heart stutter and stomach drop. No, he wasn’t supposed to find out. She knew he would be furious, consider it an insult to him. She swallowed, floundering for a response, but she couldn’t lie. “Oh, Rose, I’m not angry. I’m impressed, and very, very pleased with you.” He pulled her to a stop on what was definitely grass, and judging from the smell, they were downwind from the stables. “Can’t have any mistakes running around now can we? You were smarter than me in thinking like that.” His hand cupped her face, and Rose felt her stomach turn as he caught her lower lip in a soft kiss.   
  
She waited for it to turn domineering, rough, possessive, but it didn’t. Harold pulled her to him gently, stroking her cheeks as he moved their lips together with a content hum. Rose didn’t kiss him back. She couldn’t stomach it, would never buy his charming act no matter how hard he tried. She stood there, resting her hands on his arms in case someone was watching, and let him go on until he was finished. “I didn’t like that reward.” Rose whispered, resisting the urge to wipe her lips.   
  
“Well that wasn’t it.” Harold came behind her again, holding her shoulders softly from behind. “Hold out your hand, love.” Rose did as she was told, bracing herself for something grotesque or terrifying. Instead, something velvety soft, warm, and wet brushed her palm. Then it moved, blowing in her face, and lipping her cheek with the scent of grass, grain, and alfalfa. “Surprise.” Harold undid her blindfold, and Rose gasped.   
  
“She’s beautiful!” Rose blinked at the mare being held by a stable hand in front of her. She was taller than Astraea had been, obviously crossed between one of the chargers and a smaller breed. She had a sleek palomino coat brushed and curry combed to a golden shine. Her cornsilk colored mane had been groomed into dazzling waves, and she had a perfect white streak from the bottom of her forelock to her sweet nose. The feathered hairs around her polished hooves were pristine, and she nickered when she leaned her head down again to lip Rose’s palm. “Can I?” Rose looked back at Harold, who nodded with a smile, before she stepped away to walk around her. “What’s her name?”   
  
“Whatever you want her to be called, my Queen.” Harold was smiling way too proudly, but Rose didn’t care. The mare was absolutely flawless, her body radiating power and grace, ears pricked and eager as she followed Rose’s movements. “Are you going to ride her, or not?” Now Rose was nervous. Was this a trick, a way to punish her? Was the mare going to be sold off or killed as soon as she got off? She looked at Harold, asking him all of those things with her eyes. “Rose, darling, I don’t take gifts back do I? No, she is yours, and won’t be touched.”   
  
“Thank you!” Rose hurried around to the mare’s left, and with the stablehand’s assistance, she mounted. Fixing her skirts, Rose adjusted to the broader seat than she was used to, and held still as the stablehand adjusted her stirrups. With a nod from him, she laced the reins in her fingers and turned the mare away.   
  
The girl was exactly how she looked, tense power and loose grace combined in the perfect mount. Rose barely had to touch the reins, nudge her heels, or tighten her legs and she responded. It was impossible not to laugh, to smile, to fee exhilarated as she aimed her towards the walls, urging her into a gallop. Despite her size, the mare was like riding the wind, and she could tell she loved the running just as much as Rose did. She made the circuit of the castle grounds, eying the low hedges that lined the main drive up to the door, gave the signal, and laughed out loud as she soared into the air like an arrow, and landed perfectly. Rose was breathless, not even feeling the aches of her body and bruises as she slowed the mare down to circle Harold, walking her cool from their spontaneous race against the wind.   
  
Rose dismounted, stroking her neck, placing kisses to the sweet fur, and trying to regain her breath. “Kalliope, her name is Kalliope.” She rubbed Kalliope’s muzzle, kissing her on the tip of it before the stablehand led her away. “She’s perfect!”   
  
“I told you you’d like your reward.” Harold caught her by the waist, and Rose’s joy began to fade. “Now, kiss me sweetly, tell me you love me, and enjoy the rest of your afternoon in the gardens.”   
  
Rose sighed internally, turning in his arms to lace her own around his neck and press up just slightly on her toes. “I love you.” She lied, the only one she was allowed to tell, and caught his lips in a kiss. She hated the taste, the feel of his tongue touching hers, but she had to play the part. Too many lives depended on it.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, Honey, I’m home

Rose hissed as Juliza tightened her dress in the back, while Kalieo dusted rouge on her cheeks. “Easy, Juliza, my ribs.” Harold had misjudged the tightness of her knots the night before, and during a particularly brutal thwack of a leather strap, her ropes had unraveled, sending her sprawling sideways into the rack of whips and daggers. Nothing was broken, but she was bruised and sore. She’d knocked her head too, blacking out for a few moments. Once he’d roused her, insured she was whole and conscious, he’d switched to his hands and blades.    
  
The beating had been brutal to begin with, but she’d asked for it. It had been a stupid slip up, her mistake for taking too much wine at dinner. She’d insulted him, called him a monster, told him to stop fucking with her head because she would never fall for it. He had been playing sweet again, asking if she wanted to take a trip to Arcadia for the fall solstice in a month. Rose hated it when he played her like that. Rose preferred it when he was violent. Violent she could handle. The pain fueled her anger, her hatred. His sweet side was dangerous, lethal, usually ended up in her being cornered. Although, she much preferred him when he was drunk. Drunk Harold had one thought, sex. Rose could just lay there and take it, then he’d roll off of her and pass out. She didn’t get drunk Harold often, but she was happy when she did. Thankfully, he had let her rest up so she would be functional today.   
  
“I’m sorry, your Grace.” Juliza apologized with a soft stroke of her hair. “But any looser and it will slide off your shoulders.” Rose sighed, reaching for her chair to sit. “I’ll fetch your col-necklace.”    
  
Rose reached back to undo the green one from the day before. Today was a day for scarlet. The emissaries from Karn had made port earlier in the week, and were due sometime before sundown. As it were Harold had asked her to wear the Kingdoms colors, to look ‘absolutely stunning and powerful’ as he had put it. It would be a week of discussing trade taxes and exchanges, dinners to celebrate generations of alliances, and far too much of her having to act her part. “Thank you, Kaleio.” Rose smiled as the green eyed woman pinned her hair up and secured her crown into them with combs. “Go to the others now, I’ll meet you all in the gardens for lunch.” The woman scampered away.    
  
Rose missed when her handmaidens used to be so happy. Now they lived in fear, fear of being next, knowing it would come. Three had begged leave already, and Rose had given it to them when Harold was done threatening their families. Then she’d had to hire replacements, trying her best not to get ones that would catch Harold’s eye. It had been impossible, since all the applicants had been sweet faced and naive. Though Rose was their age, she viewed them as her surrogate daughters, daughters she couldn’t protect. Though, she could keep them safe from being murdered, all with a daily cup of tea. “I don’t know if I can do it.” She whispered as Juliza looped the collar around her throat and fastened it. “A whole week again. I’m close to my cycle. I’m tired, the girls are terrified, and Juliza I’m afraid I’m going to slip up.”    
  
“You didn’t when your parents were here.” Her only true friend sat on the footstool Rose usually used to rest her riding boots on while she laced them. “These people don’t even know you. They won’t be asking questions about babies and marriage.” Her hands cupped Rose’s face, and she relaxed. Juliza was the only person whose touch didn’t scare her. The other girls touched her as little as possible, but Juliza was different. She actually cared, and Rose knew it.    
  
Juliza had seen it all, had nursed her many times from when Harold almost went too far, had taught her how to better suture her knife wounds. Harold only permitted the woman to treat where Rose couldn’t reach, because he took great joy in watching her clean up his marks on her skin. It was an arousing thing for him, and Rose hated watching him watch her. Rose hated him period. Every day she rolled over hoping he’d died in his sleep.    
  
Although, even sleeping Harold could be violent. As sick a man he was, as horrible, abusive, and monstrous, he was still a man. He had been at war, had been attacked, been wounded. Sometimes he dreamed of it, and the nightmares had unpredictable outcomes. He might strangle her, throw her out of bed, or kick her. Other times, he’d wake up panting, shaking her, mumbling about being alive, and then crawl over her and thrust until he was satisfied, calm, and sleepy again.    
  
The last few times, she had woken him up, because the sounds he was making terrified even her. He’d been thrashing, sweat pouring down his skin, and he wouldn’t wake up. Rose had needed to sleep, because he had taken so much from her, but she couldn’t sleep like that. She also wasn’t allowed to leave the bed. So, she suppressed her disgust, pushed the sheets down, and taken him in hand. He had calmed down, mumbling her name with half open eyes, then passed back out. She’d left him like that, unsatisfied and still hard, before rolling over and drifting off to sleep. One thing she knew for certain, was that she didn’t want to know his nightmares. Anything that made him like that was too much for her to take on.    
  
“I just wish I could take something for this pain.” Rose leaned her cheek into Juliza’s palm, breathing in her perfumed hand lotion. “It hurts to breathe, much less entertain foreign emissaries and talk trade.”    
  
Juliza searched her eyes, her sweet face pulling down into a thin line as she looked at the door. “Will he be at lunch?” She whispered so softly Rose almost missed it. Rose shook her head. “Good, I’ll be in charge of your drink.” Bless that woman and her need to defy Harold as much as Rose did. She patted Rose’s cheeks twice before standing.    
  
“I love you.” Rose moved slowly to her feet, hugging Juliza gingerly to avoid aggravating her injured ribs. “Help me down the stairs.” She winced, bracing herself as they headed for the door. She knew once she got moving, stretched her muscles, her body would become accustomed. Then they headed out to the gardens.    
  
It was a pleasant day, hot, but summer was drawing to a close and the heat would soon give way to cold rains of autumn. The river in the Kingswood would be swollen in a few weeks, and she would be limited on her time outside to enjoy it. Rose couldn’t risk getting sick, because then her girls would suffer. She would take a million beatings, bleed until she couldn’t walk, tolerate Harold’s sickening intrusions inside of her every day if it meant they only suffered once a month. She’d prefer they’d never suffer at all, but that was a foolish wish.    
  
Rose took the goblet of wine Juliza poured her, pointedly ignoring her when it had been filled. If she didn’t see her slip anything in it, then how was she to know. As always, Rose tried to soothe her maidens into relaxing, into having a good time. Off days like this were rare, and they should enjoy freedom from their duties inside. She did a headcount, as her mind registered that there was a plate and teacup emptied. “Where’s Feora?” She snapped, her heart racing. The handmaidens were supposed to be there, Rose had made sure of it. Feora was Harold’s victim from her second cycle. “Kirsten, where’s Feora?” The ladies were nigh on inseparable, and when she had seen Kirsten, she had assumed Feora was there too.    
  
“She said she wasn’t feeling well, and you told her to rest, your Grace.” Rose did a mental calculation. They had been outside for over an hour. Feora had been alone for at least that. “Did she lie?”   
  
“Yes.” Rose knocked her goblet over as she shot to her feet. “Juliza, come with me, ladies stay here until you’re finished!” Ignoring the blazing fire in her ribs, Rose pulled her skirts up and ran. She blew past the guards, throwing open the doors to the hall, and made a beeline for her handmaidens quarters. They had three rooms and two bathing chambers to themselves, and the three rooms and first bathing chamber were empty. “Feora!” Rose pulled at the handle, finding it locked. “Feora! Open up! That’s a command!”    
  
“Feora! Open the door!” Juliza pounded on the wood, but all they heard was sobbing from the otherside, followed by retching. “No!” Juliza kicked, but the door held strong.    
  
Rose turned as her assigned guards skidded into the hall, having obviously chased her but lagged behind due to their armor and weapons. “Kick this door in!” They looked at each other. “Or so help me, I will tell Harold you hit me!” She watched as they scrambled forward at her words, and with two kicks the wood splintered open. “Fetch Patrick! Now!” She ordered, shoving past them.    
  
Feora was crouched in a corner, surrounded by red tinted vomit, a broken bottle of wine, and a shattered vial. “Leave me alone.” She whimpered, clutching her stomach. “I have to kill it. I have to kill it!” She vomited again, and Juliza shoved Rose back so the splash didn’t stain her clothes.    
  
“Feora, didn’t you drink your tea?!” Rose longed to hold her, to cradle her in her arms, but Harold would have a fit if she didn’t show up in this dress. He’d had it made special for her, and by fit she meant torture her. The girl nodded, sobbing. “Oh, honey. That tea prevents pregnancy. You aren’t pregnant. If it didn’t work, I’d be by now. What did you take?” She nodded at the vial.    
  
“Something to end...” she retched again and Juliza stroked her back. “Want to die, my Queen. Want it to end.” Feora sobbed clutching her stomach as she clung to Juliza, and Rose felt her throat tighten. If she could cry, she would, but her tears had stopped long ago. All she could do was feel. “When I dream... the King. Sometimes he finds me in the halls, and when he smiles I can feel him... I don’t want to feel him anymore.”    
  
“Where is she?” Fredericks voice announced his arrival, and he came in to kneel beside Feora. “What did you take, child. Tell me.” Feora shook her head. Rose knelt, despite her aching side that eased numbed by adrenaline, to pick up the vial. Frederick sniffed it. “She’ll live, but it will be a few days before she recovers.” He snapped at a guard. “Take her to the healers wing.”    
  
“I’m coming too.” Rose made to follow, but Kirshwin came down the hall, looking right at her. “Juliza, go with Feora. I’m guessing the Emissaries have arrived.” Dhe cast one last look at Feora’s sobbing body being carried off, and then made her way to Kirshwin. “Check my dress and see if there’s blood.” She turned slowly, her pounding heart slowing as she steadied herself to receive the guests.    
  
“It’s clean.” He nodded, but then pointed at her Crown. Rose reached up, finding it loose from her run, and winced as her ribs ached when she straightened it. The pain was still horrible, but it didn’t burn like before. Juliza’s medicine was numbing it some, but not enough to be noticeable to Harold. She stepped past Kirshwin to make her way to the throne room.    
  
James hated wearing a hood to ride up to his own damned castle, but it was necessary. The rest of the convoy was, including Jack. It’s how the Karnish emissaries always traveled. They had parted ways with Martha at a village the day before, where he met her family and Mickey. Luckily they understood the importance of secrecy. Apparently one of her sister’s friends, Myrna, had gone to the castle to be a handmaiden for Rose, and she had returned home a completely different girl. She hadn’t spoken a word for three days, and then took hemlock one morning.    
  
That knowledge served only to anger James more, and as he pulled his horse to a stop in front of the castle, he stared up at its walls. This should have been different. This should have been two years ago. He should have ridden up proudly on Orion to the sound of trumpet blasts. His father should have been standing on those steps, with Rose at his side. She would have thrown propriety out the window and run down to him, yanking him off of the horse, and kissed him like they were married and not simply engaged. Sarah Jane would have been standing there, shaking her head but smiling.    
  
Sarah Jane was dead. Martha’s family confirmed that. There had been a large funeral, as she was basically their foster mother. Harold had announced it was heart failure, and had given her a lavish funeral, one fit for a proper lady, and she was entombed beside her husband on the outside of the Royal Crypt. Martha’s mother had gone to the funeral, and she had said Rose had looked ill, but otherwise just grieving over the loss. She remembered watching as Harold doted on her, and had speculated with a few others if maybe she was in the early stages of pregnancy. When no announcements came, they had forgotten it until he brought her name up.    
  
Rose had rarely taken ill, that he remembered. The only times were her pox  and after their first and only argument. That had just been a mild fever and a head cold that lasted only a week. It hadn’t slowed her down a bit. James could only imagine what hell would have her sick like that, enough to tolerate Harold touching her. He knew, instinctively, that his brother had somehow caused his father and Sarah Jane’s deaths. The similarities were too consistent. More than likely, he had caused Rose’s illness too.    
  
Dismounting, James followed the actual emissaries, a woman named Calla and her husband Mikael, forward to where one of Harold’s scribes, someone James didn’t recognize, was waiting at the top of the steps. “Greetings! Welcome to Gallifrey! I hope the journey was easy.”    
  
“Thank you.” Calla smiled, nodding, but not lowering her hood. James kept his head tilted down, concealing his face until he was ready to act. They had carefully planned this, and he couldn’t let his rage make him reckless. “The seas were calm, and the road was pleasant.”    
  
“King Harold is in the throne room. He has set up refreshments for your arrival.” The scribe waved them past, as two guards James definitely didn’t recognize opened the door. He had only recognized one guard so far, Fredrickson at the portcullis. He had wanted to speak with him, ask him if things were truly good, but he had kept his mouth shut. “Queen Rose will be in shortly, as she is dealing with a minor emergency with some of the staff.”    
  
“I hope all is well.” Mikael offered, as they entered the hallway.    
  
James nearly froze as he took it all in. He had expected chaos, the walls and windows covered in drapes, slave driven servants moaning their fate. Everything looked almost the same. What drew his eye, the largest change, the one he would notice before anyone, was the portraits above the hallway doors.    
  
His still hung in the same spot, but it had been reframed in black, with a oil lamp burning beside it, as his mothers had for five years. The portrait of Harold alone was gone, and his parents’ painting now hung there, with an identical lamp. Above the door was a new painting, so fresh it almost looked wet. Rose was sitting on the Queen’s throne, in a magnificent white and silver gown, with his mother’s first crown on her head. She was looking up at Harold, who wore his father’s crown, with a loving smile as he rested a hand on her shoulder. The one thing he noticed, as his repulsion filled him, was that she was wearing long sleeves, her dress collar covered her chest, and she wore choker style necklace with a jeweled lock in the shape of a love heart. That wasn’t her style. That wasn’t his Rose in the painting.    
  
“Move.” Jack hissed, stirring him from his reverie.    
  
James hurried forward, approaching the throne room doors. As they opened, he stepped in, finding Harold rising from their father’s throne, smiling broadly, as he hurried down the steps with open hands. “Welcome! I hope your journey was easy.” Calla looked at him, nodding, and James drew a breath, noting Harold was not wearing a sword.    
  
“It was the easiest I’ve made in two years.” James said, pulling his hood down, watching as Harold came to a halt with wide eyes. “Hello, Brother.    
  
“James...” Harold’s voice was full of shock and disbelief. James heard the guards shift, as they whispered to each other. Harold came forward, his eyes taking in his appearance as if he thought he was hallucinating. “You’re.... you’re alive.” He tensed as his brother reached out and touched his arm with a poke that turned into a firm grip. He almost punched him, wanted to rip his hand off, but James was surrounded by armed guards and it wouldn’t do to die before he saw Rose. “How! Your entire company... it’s been two years!”    
  
“After an attempted assassination, I ended up being sold into slavery. It’s a long story.” James wasn’t in the mood to go into details just then. Why was Harold taking his other arm? Why was he looking up at him like a miracle had just occurred. “I’m not a ghost, if that’s what you’re checking for.”    
  
“Two years, you bloody bastard! Two years I’ve grieved for you!” Harold’s voice cracked, and before James could move, his brother yanked him into a hug. “By the gods, I missed you.” James shot Jack a look, and his friend looked as thoroughly confused. Harold pulled back, and James saw tears staining his cheeks. Okay, what the hell was going on? “Welcome home!” Harold hugged him again, fiercely, body heaving a sob, and James didn’t know what else to do besides wrap his arms around him and pat his back firmly.    
  
“It’s good to be home.” James answered, and the sound of the door opening, the rustle of skirts, made him almost turn, but Harold squeezed him tighter. Then a flash of diamonds on blonde hair passed to his left, all he could see as Harold’s face blocked the view, and a soft voice spoke.    
  
“Harry, darling, why are you crying? What’s going on?” Rose’s voice was like music to his heart, and he released his brother to look at her. She was a vision, her hair perfectly styled in place, his mother’s crown resting on her hair. Her amber eyes were lined, making them shine as they went wide, cheeks dusted rouge but looking flushed underneath like she’d been running, lips painted as red as the dress she was wearing. Had she always been so beautiful? James had almost forgotten, and his heart swelled in adoration as he smiled at her. If he smiled, she would too, that smile, his smile. His heart deflated as she gasped and practically threw herself into Harold’s side.   
  
Rose had been confused, when she entered the throne room. The guards all looked unsettled, whispering, and then she saw Harold hugging one of the Karnish emissaries, clinging to him like a child clings to a parent. Tears flowed down his cheeks, and his eyes were closed. She had stepped forward, wondering what the hell she had missed, asked what was going on, when the men had parted.    
  
A face, one she had once looked to for love, for hope, for safety and adventure turned to her. It was older, weathered, leaner, but it was the same eyes, the same smile pulling at the lips. It was James. Rose felt her world turn on its head. James was alive. He was there. Harold had welcomed him with a hug and tears. James had taught Harold how to do the things he did. The brothers were reunited. One was bad enough, but now there were two.    
  
James was staring at her just like he had never left, drinking her in with his eyes, and once felt her blood run cold. No, he couldn’t be there. Rose couldn’t handle him as well as Harold. A torrent of horrible thoughts raced through her mind at his smile. What if he wanted her? What if he tried to touch her? Her poor handmaidens, they were in double the danger now. Rose had sworn she’d never do it, had rebelled against the words Harold had said their first nights together. She had only one thought, and that was that Harold would kill any man that dared to hurt her, except himself. So she went for the demon she knew, and not the one resurrected from the dead.    
  
“Harry, am I hallucinating?” Rose clutched at his coat, knowing that he wouldn’t lie. It had to be a dream, couldn’t be real. Maybe whatever Juliza had given her had caused her to see things. She ripped her gaze from one set of blue eyes to look up into the tear reddened ones.    
  
“No, Blossom, It’s really James.” Harold wrapped an arm around her, which was good, because the world was suddenly very wobbly. It was too much, the pain in her body, Feora’s attempted suicide, the brothers reunited to resume their games. “Rose...” Harold’s voice sounded funny, echoey, and his face was swimming out of focus. “Rose!” The world was wrong, but at least it was going blissfully dark.    
  
James watched in horror as Rose’s eyes rolled back, and her legs buckled. Before he could move, before anyone could, Harold had her on the floor, her head in his lap, stroking her face. “Rose, sweetheart, wake up.” He wasn’t sure what was worse, her fainting at the sight of him or the absolute terror on her face when she had stared at him. Then again, he would have been scared if a man dead two years had suddenly arrived. “Fetch smelling salts and Fredrick!” Harold bellowed, and the guards burst into movement.    
  
“I didn’t mean to scare her.” James looked back at Jack, who had lowered his hood and was standing there looking just as bewildered. “Is she alright?”    
  
“You’re back from the dead, James. How did you expect her to react?!” Harold shook his head, and James bit back a growl as his brother leaned down to kiss Rose delicately on the brow. “Rosie, love, come on. I’m here, wake up.”    
  
“What happened?” A woman burst into the room, with chestnut hair and kind eyes. She flew to their side, and when she looked at James she yelped. “Gods above, that will do it!” It was Juliza, one of the kitchen girls James had ordered Harold to stay away from after he had raped her sister. She was wearing handmaiden gowns now, and produced a small bottle from seemingly nowhere. “Excuse me, your Majesty.” Harold pulled his head back as she waved the foul smelling vial under Rose’s nose.    
  
“Where’s Frederick?” Harold fired at her, as Rose jerked her eyes open, took one look at everyone, and promptly checked out on them again.    
  
“Feora had an accident, your Grace. He’s tending to her.” Juliza waved the bottle under Rose’s nose again.    
  
James felt helpless, and it angered him. Why the hell had Rose gone to Harold? Why hadn’t she been happy he was back? This made no sense to him. He noted again her longsleeved dress, the sweat that made her stray hairs stick to her skin. “She’s overheated. She needs to be somewhere cool.”    
  
“Kirshwin!” Harold called and a guard appeared swiftly. “Take my Queen to our chambers. Juliza, go with her and see that she is comfortable until Fredrick can examine her.”    
  
“Harry...” Rose’s voice was weak, and James could strangle Harold as his brother lifted her up to his shoulder. “Don’t feel good.” She murmured, her eyes fluttering but not opening.    
  
“Shhh, love. Kirshwin is going to take you to bed. Juliza will get you into something cooler, okay.” Harold kissed her lightly in the lips. “I’ll be up shortly. I love you.”    
  
“Love you too.” Rose whispered, and James felt like a burning knife was stabbed into his chest. He stumbled back, to his feet, as Kirshwin took Rose into his arms and carried her out.    
  
“She’ll be fine.” Harold stood brushing his knees off, as he watched her leave. James knew his brother, knew when he was acting. That look was actually concern, real concern. No, this could not be happening. “Rose is a resilient woman. She’s been through a lot, and having her dead fiancé reappear three months after getting married is enough to make any woman faint.”    
  
“I bet she’s been through a lot.” James growled, turning on Harold. The smile he received was one he had never seen before. He didn’t have a definition for it, but it chilled his blood. “I am sorry I just reappeared unannounced. I didn’t know who I could trust. It’s been a long two years.” One thing James knew about war, was that it had a certain feeling to the air. The throne room held that feeling now, and the question was, who would strike the first blow. He couldn’t, not yet, not until he knew exactly how many enemies he had. Judging by all the new faces, more than he had allies. 

 


	26. Chapter 26

“Your room only has furniture I’m afraid.” Harold told James as they made their way through the inner courtyard. He had told Mikael and Calla that they had fresh rooms and such waiting, and obviously all talks if business would have to wait until he had properly spoken to his brother and seen to the queen. He had tried to dismiss Jack too, but James’ friend said he wasn’t going anywhere. “The rest of your things are packed away in the vault or storage attics.”    
  
“I have things from Karn for now.” James nodded, as the guards opened the door to the royal wing. “Though, there is are a few treasures I would very much like back.” He meant Rose and his kingdom, of course, but he would like Harold assume his intent.    
  
“Same with me, your Grace.” Jack’s voice was heavy with sarcasm on the word. James looked back over his should with a look of caution. This needed to be handled carefully, gently, because they couldn’t just barge in demanding Harold to abdicate. Even if he did, Rose was his wife now, and she was bound to follow him. “There’s a particular necklace I lost in Skaro.”    
  
“Oh!” Harold smiled, as he gestured them towards the stairs. “Yes, Rose kept your favor when her father brought it back Jack.” James waited for Harold to mention his, perhaps it didn’t survive. “Yours is somewhere in her jewelry I believe as well Brother. I’ll ask if she wants to return them.”    
  
“Thank you.” James gritted his teeth as they reached the door that had once been his father’s room. “Give her my apologies for surprising you all like this, but I’ve already had attempts on my life.”    
  
“She’ll be okay. Rose is a fighter. She’ll just need some time to wrap her head around this.” Harold put his hand on the knob, meeting his eyes. “Now, gentlemen, I need to check on my wife. Head on up to your room, and I’ll have baths and your bags brought up to you.”    
  
James almost took Harold’s elbow, but he snatched his hand back. “You’ve been doing well, as King, according to what I’ve heard.” He knew it was a subtle way to let him know that there may or may not be a challenge to the validity of his rule. “I can’t wait to see just how well.” He would need something a bit more than birth order if the people actually loved Harold, and if Rose had been threatened to keep her mouth shut.    
  
“Yes, a King is only as powerful as his kingdom.” Harold chuckled, with a push of the door. “One thing I have learned from my Queen is that you have to pay attention to the common folk, and believe me, I learned that lesson from her well. See you at dinner, brother, where I plan on hearing all about how you’re here.” The door shut with a finality.    
  
James turned to Jack, Harold’s last words ringing in his ears. “You know, I think you’ve been right. It was him, but how?” He hissed as low as he could, before mounting the stairs to the next level. He pushed open his door, gazing around at his now bare room. He was finally back, but this wasn’t home. Somehow, James knew, this castle hadn’t been anyone’s home but Harold’s in months. “Find them.” He snapped to Jack, making a direct right to head to his private office.    
  
Harold may have had his room stripped bare, but not everything was out in the open to be grabbed. James knelt by his desk, counting the stones as he moved, then pulled a small dagger from his boot and pries three up. Grinning in triumph, he lifted the bundle of oil treated skin out and untied it. “Perfect.” James smirked as he trailed his finger down the journal, opening it up to his old notes and interviews.   
  
“Still under the hearth stones.” Jack reappeared holding a metal box that had rusted some with neglect. “Everything’s still inside.”    
  
“Now we have to get someone to talk.” James frowned, as he rewrapped the books.    
  
“Well, you’ll find I’m the only one who will.” They both turned around to find Juliza standing in the door. “Because I’m the only one he can’t threaten anymore.” Her eyes danced between them, and James braced himself for her to call for a guard, but she simply closed the door and held out her arms. “Welcome home.”   
  
“Come here you!” Jack scooped her up in a fierce hug. James arched an eyebrow, and then his love for his friend grew when he put her down and smiled. “You never left her side did you?”   
  
“You told me not to.” Juliza beamed, turning to James. “Alright, my King, what’s the plan?”    
  
“Not here, not now.” James shook his head, glancing at the door. Their conversation had to be somewhere he knew was private, inaccessible to prying ears. “How’s Rose?”    
  
“Scared out of her mind, and believe me, you won’t like why.” She lowered her voice, as she pressed an ear to the door. “I’ll explain later. Your things are on their way up.” Juliza looked him over again, with a heavy sigh. “Just know this, Harold doesn’t lie to her. He manipulates truth, plants seeds of doubt, and fans them. Rose needs to be handled carefully, because she will not hesitate to have both of you in the cells if she sees you as a threat to the safety of anyone she loves.”    
  
“Doesn’t she love me?” James knew the answer before Juliza spoke, could see it in the sadness of her eyes, the way she looked down at the floor and shifted her weight. “What did I do, besides die?”    
  
“I’ll explain later, for now, watch your backs, and for your own safety, James, let Jack talk to Rose first. Harold had nothing about him to twist the truth of.” James nodded, feeling his stomach twist. He had imagined a thousand different ways Harold could have tortured Rose, but it never crossed his mind that he would have poisoned her against him. Why? Until today everyone had thought he was dead. He kept his pain to himself, as Juliza opened the door and let the people with their bags from Karn and bath water in.   
  
Rose paced the length of her luxurious cage. She had recovered from her fainting spell by the time Kirshwin had started up the stairs, and though Juliza told her to rest, she couldn’t help it. When Harold came in, commanding Juliza to go see that James and Jack’s items were brought in and bathwater delivered to get rid of the traveling dust, she had stopped and stared at him. “I’m sorry I fainted.” She wrung her hands, sweating with anxiety despite the thinner dress.    
  
“I’m not angry.” He closed the door behind him, watching her with that tilted head and curious smile. “You came to me willingly, Rose. You told me you loved me, without being ordered to.” Rose swallowed as he approached her, his hand extending to touch her. She flinched back, expecting a grab, but his fingers traced her jaw. “You’re afraid of him.”    
  
“Yes.” Rose pulled away, wrapping her arms around her bruised ribs, not wanting anyone, anything to touch her. Harold was in sweet mode, which meant head games. Her mind was already too full, too chaotic to play his game. “He taught you how to be this...” The room felt smaller than it ever had, and the walls closed even tighter as Harold caught her from behind and pulled her into his chest. “One of you is terrifying enough, but now....”    
  
“He won’t touch you.” Harold chuckled, sounding far too pleased for anyone’s safety. His fingers trailed along her arms, making her shudder in disgust. “Nobody gets to have you, but me.” She wanted nothing more than to yank out of his arms and run. Where could she run to? Even if Harold allowed her to go somewhere for a while, like her parents’ estate, there was no promise James wouldn’t take advantage of that. Who would protect her handmaidens?    
  
“I have a request.” Rose never asked him for anything, ever. She never wanted to be indebted to him, because the cost was always too high. This was an exception.    
  
“Oh?” Harold turned her, stepping in closer so she was forced to look up into his eyes. There was that look, the one that said he was planning something she would hate. “What do you need, and don’t say time away from me. I’m not ready for that just yet.”    
  
“I want my handmaidens to go away for a month, a retreat.” Rose needed time to figure out what dangerous game had just been set into motion, and she couldn’t do that if she was worried about her girls. “Except Juliza, of course. Please, Harold.” She was afraid he’d say no, that he would turn her down.    
  
“Your cycle is due next week. After that, then they can have a month away at the spring hunting castle.” Rose relaxed internally at his words, but she caught herself as she realized he didn’t tell her the catch. She waited for the but, or the, only if you, but they didn’t come. Harold simply leaned down and kissed her brow.    
  
Rose was confused. Harold always had some trick, some way to ruin what she wanted. “They can go?” He smiled slowly at her as he nodded. “That simple, just wait a week and they’re free from everything for a month.” He hummed in acknowledgment. “You don’t want anything from me, from them in return?”    
  
“You chose to come to me, to say you loved me without prompting.” Harold’s eyes sparkled in amusement as he began backing her towards the wall. “You know when you do things like that, you get rewarded.” Rose had just been acting, been trying her best to get out of that throne room. She’d said those words out of reflex, no sincerity. The stone wall hit her back, and she whined as her ribs and back throbbed. “You’re still in pain.” He groaned, pressing into her as he bit her lower lip.    
  
“What do you think.” She grumbled back, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to turn her face. She tensed in his grasp, telling him her body that she really, really wasn’t able to handle another assault right now. Of course, he wasn’t listening, his tongue pressing between her lips as he grabbed her breasts through her dress. Rose gasped for air as he pulled back, grabbing her, angling her to the bed. “Harold I’m sore, tired, and I’ve just seen one woman almost die and a man come back that I thought was dead. If you take me like this, I won’t be fit for dinner.”    
  
“Mmmm, you make a fair point.” He stopped, dropping the skirts he had been bunching up. Rose breathed a sigh of relief, until he chuckled darkly. “Turn around and kneel.” Her relief was gone, and she did as she was instructed. He was already undoing his trousers, and Rose swallowed to prepare for his second favorite way to violate her. “Rest your head back against the bed and keep your hands down.” Rose let her head fall back, happy at least she didn’t have to do anything but try not to vomit, and clasped her hands on her skirts.    
  
  
  
  


 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose beats Harold at his own game  
> James gets her alone

Rose’s handmaidens were well on their way, and she could think clearly. She advised them strongly to keep an eye on Katarina, Harold’s victim for the week. She hoped being away from the castle would help her recover more than being subjected to Harold. They would be gone a month.    
  
It had been two weeks since James had returned, and much to her chagrin, Harold had welcomed him back into the family with open arms. There had probably been some quietly exchanged threats, because James only approached her once. It had been after Calla and Mikael had left, and Harold had wandered off to see which handmaiden he was going to choose. That had left her and Juliza alone in the hallway beside the visitor’s library. James had come out, looking both ways for guards, which were absent, and approached them.    
  
“Your Grace.” His voice had been strained, as he bowed at the waist, and when Rose had told him to rise, his eyes had been a maelstrom of anger, fear, adoration, and concern. “Juliza, dear, if I may have a moment alone with the Queen.”    
  
“She stays.” Rose had clung to Juliza’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Juliza was loyal, and she wouldn’t run if things took a bad turn. It also helped that she had one hell of a scream, one that out did even Rose’s. Also, Rose was more confident, more assured, when she had somewhere there for her to protect. She only got lost in her own head when she didn’t know what the people she loved were doing.    
  
“I came back.” James had sighed, his brow furrowing, hands clutching at empty air beside him. “I promised you I would, and I’m sorry it took so long. Why won’t you talk to me?” Did he think she was so stupid, so ignorant? Rose had heard all about the two years he had spent as a slave, so what? He was free now, free to do as he pleased. She was still a slave, a prisoner. The collar on her neck was proof of that, even if it shone and sparkled. “Has he hurt you?” James’ voice had been a whisper, one with eyes casting around.    
  
“He’s my husband.” Rose had answered flatly. James knew, of course. He knew what his brother was. Yet, Harold hadn’t given her leave to discuss it with him, and if James was testing her, she wouldn’t fail. “Do you think he is the kind of man who would hurt his wife?” Juliza had squeezed her fingers, and Rose had arched an eyebrow.    
  
“Yes, I do.” James had huffed, his eyes flashing. Rose still refused to confirm or deny it. She wouldn’t give him, or Harold, the satisfaction. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”    
  
“Your Grace.” Juliza’s voice had been soft, imploring. Oh Rose loved her, but honestly, she still saw James as some knight in shining armor here to kill the beast.    
  
“Who says I need help?” Rose had huffed, raising her chin up in a dismissive manner. “Much less from a man like you. Have a good day, Prince.” Then she had turned and strode away. Once safely in her office, Rose had leaned against the door.    
  
“Trust him.” Juliza had whispered, cupping Rose’s face in her soft hands. “James is nothing like the King.”    
  
“You and I know Harold doesn’t lie, and he said he learned from James.” Rose didn’t want to take more hope away from Juliza, but reality was a cruel mistress.   
  
“Trust me then.” Juliza sighed, and Rose let her hug her. “Harold may not lie to you, but he manipulates the truth. I’ll find out for sure.” Rose wanted to trust her, but so far Juliza had provided no truth.    
  
James hadn’t spoken to her sense, and though he was one floor up, he never interrupted her beatings. Then again, Harold had started to gag her, so it wasn’t exactly like she was screaming anymore. Instead, he just watched her silently when they were in the same room, his eyes practically undressing her. At least at times like council meetings, Harold was there, and James spent the time staring at him. Harold had insisted he be at each one, to learn how Gallifrey was now run.   
  
Rose couldn’t be bothered with James at the moment, because when she sat reviewing the notes for the upcoming meeting, her heart skipped. Her proposal to make abusing children illegal was on the ledger. She knew the council would vote in favor, James may even, but Harold was going to need distracting so he would just sign it and move on. That’s why she had snuck upstairs beforehand, located a large, absorbent cloth, and came back down to sit as close to Harold as possible.    
  
Rose wasn’t even sure her plan would work, but it was worth a shot. It would catch Harold off guard, play to his lusts for blood and her flesh, and stroke his ego by her initiating it. She kept the cloth up her sleeve,as she listened to the average reports on this and that. She was taking notes, of course, but slowly, carefully inching closer to Harold. He didn’t notice at first, but when she ghosted her left fingers against his knee under the table, his own quill paused. Rose felt his eyes on her, and after a moment, he dipped his quill in the ink and began writing again.    
  
Rose drew a breath to steel herself against her own self disgust, and slid her fingers up just a bit, drawing a circle against the soft material of his trousers. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on Grant, the head of the treasury, who was discussing the costs of transporting enough wood, coal, and fuel down to keep the castle for winter. Harold slid his parchment towards her just a bit, and she flicked her eyes down to it.   
  
**What are you doing?**   
  
Rose looked back up, as James’ voice cut into the conversation, giving his opinion on how things could be portioned off to prevent over supplying. Good, they were distracted. She quickly scripted on her own notes.    
  
**This is boring** .    
  
Harold’s low chuckle didn’t draw any of their eyes, and neither did his hand as it slipped down to cover hers. He leaned in, whispering in so low a breath Rose barely heard him. “Keep that up, Blossom, and I’ll forget we aren’t in our room.”    
  
“Your Majesties?” James’ voice drew them both to the table. “Is that agreeable?” Rose avoided his eyes as Harold’s fingers tightened around hers.    
  
“I have no objections. Harold darling?” Rose forced her words to have double meaning, as she looked over at him. She dragged their joined hands higher on his leg.    
  
“None at all. Put it in the pile for me to sign.” Harold looked back down at his notes, as they moved to the next item on the list. Rose didn’t pay attention to what it was, because her goal was the one after. Her fingers found their goal, and just as she hoped, he was already straining against the material. Her other hand moved on the paper, as Harold read off his review on the discussion. “Debate this, I need to talk with the Queen.” He leaned back in, pulling his paper up to hide their lips. “You’re trying to distract me. Why?”    
  
“Because out here I’m just as powerful as you, and you can’t stop me.” Rose hissed back, as low as she could. She tugged her hand away, but he held it firmly. Just as she predicted, the edge of a blade pricked her skin.   
  
“Don’t presume to play games with me, Rose. You can’t win. Finish me before the meeting is over, and I won’t carve my name into your thigh after dinner.” He snagged her wrist, rolling her sleeve up with one hand under the table, and then dropped his notes. “Apologies, I just needed to clarify things on a matter. What were we discussing.”    
  
Rose didn’t hiss as he pulled her hand up higher, pressing it against his trouser laces. The blade stung into the skin just above her wrist. He was playing right into her game. She expertly freed the cloth and spread it on his thigh, and then she untied his laces. Nobody seemed keen on what was occurring, despite the way she gritted her teeth as he drew another short, shallow cut on her arm.    
  
Rose knew he was well past aroused, and the way her blood trickled down her arm was definitely making it stronger for him. She also knew how he liked it, as he had beaten it, literally, into her. She took him in hand, working him, intentionally writing an insult to his stamina on the page. When he growled, she had to swallow back a whine as the blade bit in again, higher.    
  
Rose was both repulsed and pleased as he agreed to sign the discussed item, and they moved on. Harold didn’t even question the law that was proposed, even as James read her name outloud. She didn’t have to look over at the King to know he was pretending to read his notes. When he was in this mindset, his only thoughts were blood and completion.    
  
As she knew, everyone was in agreement with the law, though they debated over the extent of the sentencing. She had wanted prison time, but James suggested ten years of hard labor, and Rose couldn’t stop the gasp of shock as she met his eyes. He was glaring at her, confusion and rage in his face, as his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. “What about you Harold?” Shame and fear flooded her veins at the words, increased by the split of her skin under the blade.    
  
“Perfect.” He replied, not even looking up. Rose squeezed, wrist twisting, as the word came out a bit too throaty. “Moving on.” Victory boiled in her veins, as did relief when Harold pulsed in her palm, his legs tensing, blade faltering. Another twist and stroke caused him to cough, as her hand was coated. The paper went into her pile of laws to sign, as she released him and took the cloth to cover her palm as she tucked him away. Then she lowered her quill, resisting the urge to puke, as the blade disappeared and Harold pushed her sleeve down. Rose wiped her hand discretely, tucking messy cloth up her sleeve of the uninjured arm.    
  
When the meeting adjourned half an hour later, Harold kissed her roughly before disappearing. Rose watched him go, smirking internally at how he didn’t even realized she had bested him at his own game, and made her way towards the stables. She had a kit there to tend her wounds, before she would head into town to see her orphans.    
  
James saw the pain in Rose’s eyes, even if none of the other men present did. He had watched as each shift of Harold’s body made her eyebrow move just so. Then, to his disgust, it became obvious that it wasn’t just pain on her face. Her eyes had gone sheltered, blank, snd glazed as her left shoulder moved just slightly in a rhythmic pattern. It had taken all his restraint not to jump onto the table then and there, and take Harold’s smirking head off. Everyone else seemed completely oblivious at the actions under the table, but James knew, he just knew, Harold was getting his jollies off by hurting Rose. When Rose’s eyes had met his, truly for the first time, he saw the shame and repulsion in them. Then she had looked away.    
  
When their subtle movements stopped, the child abuse law she had proposed signed. James had relaxed some. Rose had smiled, not one he had ever seen on her before. He had seen it on others though. It had been victory. She had worn it the rest of the meeting, and it only faltered when Harold kissed her hard. Rose could Act all she wanted for others, but James knew her. He had memorized how she looked and felt during and after a kiss. She hadn’t wanted it. Harold was gone, and James saw the scarlet drip of blood on her palm, as Rose hurried away. He was torn. Did he hunt down Harold and confront him now, or did he go check on Rose?    
  
Rose won out, and James followed after her. He praised his luck when the ever present Juliza and guards were nowhere in sight. Finally, she was alone, nobody to act for, and he followed at a safe distance until they reached the stables. “Kalliope!” There was her real voice, the one full of love and happiness. James watched as she stopped at a stall before a gorgeous palomino mare who whinnied and lipped Rose’s face. “Want to go see the children? Hmmm? I know you do because they sneak you treats.”    
  
James was too lost in her moment of joy, seeing the real Rose shine through again, that he almost missed the stable hand coming past him with a saddle. “Let me get her ready, my Queen.”    
  
“I’ll be in supply room.” Luckily Rose didn’t look his way, before she disappeared into a room.    
  
“Saddle up Donar for me.” James pointed at the blue roan charger Harold had said he could have in place of Orion to a another stablehand. That was one thing James had missed about his brother. They did share a deep love for their horses. Thanatos was probably the only thing Harold had ever loved. With everyone around distracted, James made his way to the supply room and eased open the door.    
  
Rose was sitting on an overturned bucket, a bag opened on another, and her sleeve rolled up. There, marring her beautiful skin, were a dozen or so cuts, each shallow but coated in freshly dried blood. Her face was taut as she wiped them with antiseptic, but there were no tears. James knew they had to hurt, and the Rose he remembered would have flinched with each wipe. Hatred so strong it couldn’t be held back filled him, and he pulled the door shut behind him. “I fucking knew it!” He growled, stalking towards her and taking her wrist.    
  
“James!” Rose yelped, her face paling, as she froze in place. So many emotions burned across her face that he couldn’t keep up. “I broke a vase this morning. It’s nothing.” Her eyes flailed around the room, as if she were a fox cornered by hounds. “Just an accident. I’m fine. I’m fine.” The absolute terror in her made him drop her wrists, and to his own broken soul, she scrambled away from him, digging into the folds of her dress, and a dagger flashed into her right hand. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever fucking touch me again!” She was obviously trying to sound threatening, but her words were fragile, and her hand was shaking.   
  
“Rose, love, put the dagger down.” James had to calm her down. He couldn’t bear to see her like this, terrified of him, breathing so fast that he was sure she’d faint. He held his hands up as he came closer to her, keeping his voice calm though the rage was consuming him. “‘M not going to hurt you. Just let me see your arm.”    
  
“Liar!” Rose slashed with the dagger, and James dodged, grabbing her wrist as it fell from her fingers. Then she snapped, and James groaned as her fist collided with his jaw. It was her injured arm, so she didn’t have much strength behind it. “Let me go or I’ll scream!” Her threat was empty, because the look in her eyes said she wasn’t sure guards would come. He released her arm slowly, lowering it so it wouldn’t fall into her. “Let me...” Confusion took over her features, as she saw her free hand. “Go.”    
  
“I would never, ever hurt you.” James could see it now, see how she recoiled in on herself. What had Harold done to her? How had he broken her down so badly? “I just want to tend your cuts from Har-the vase. Come here.” This wasn’t going to be as simple as he thought. His Rose was in there somewhere, but this new Rose was a whole different woman. He had seen this behavior before, but never on a woman. Usually it was on older soldiers, ones who had seen too many battles, too much blood. Rose wasn’t just physically hurt. Her whole mind had been brutalized. “Or I can leave. Would that be better?”    
  
“James...” Rose looked between him and the door. She clutched her arm, wincing softly. Then she met his eyes again with a snarl. “You can’t fuck with my head. So stop it right now! I’m not a child anymore! You won’t fool me with your lies!” She wasn’t screaming or shouting, but her voice was as lethal as Harold’s could be.    
  
James had to keep her calm, make her understand. “We agreed years ago to never lie to each other.” Juliza had told him Harold had told Rose he had learned from James, but that was only a half truth. He had learned the art of secrecy, avoiding detection, because James was working on exposing him. Yet, he couldn’t explain himself without betraying Juliza’s help. “And yes, I know I kept some things from you, but we can discuss those later. I swear. I just want to tend your arm. Please, Rose, sit down.”    
  
“Queen Rose.” She snapped, but to James’ relief she came back to the bucket. “You can’t... I have to tend them.” Her eyes told him this was a direct order she had been given sometime in the last four months. “But you can look.” She lifted her arm up for him to examine.    
  
James had to swallow as her took her arm in his fingers again. The once smooth, flawless skin was a patchwork of thin white scars and healing scabs. Four months, that was all it had taken for Harold to do this. He was going to destroy him, later, when the time was so right he would be the only one to suffer. “You must break a lot of vases. I don’t remember you being so clumsy.” The knife wounds weren’t bad, just surface cuts that would sting and heal in a week. She had already cleaned them quite well.    
  
“Well I was.” Rose quipped, but at least she wasn’t trying to stab him as she began applying salve to them. “Remember when I bumped my arm in the gardener shed.” Those amber eyes flashed to his, and James felt the words like a punch to the gut. “Yep, always been clumsy.”    
  
“You didn’t bump your arm.” James loosened his grip on her skin, but was unable to pull away, so he let her use his palm as a table while she began wrapping a thin bandage. “I grabbed you, and then I apologized.” Fuck the unfairness of this all. That memory, that one memory had to be the strongest she had. Yet, she was admitting that this was a similar situation, even though it wasn’t. “Then you slapped me, and I offered to tell everyone what happened remember. Then we told Sarah Jane.”   
  
Rose tied the bandage, and she stared at it for a moment, her lip twitching. He felt his hope spark anew as she lifted her eyes to him. “And now she’s dead, because I’m clumsy.” Her words were sad, but James saw no tears in her eyes. “I miss her so much, and she’s gone.”    
  
“Did he do it?” James had to know. He had to know if his gut instincts were right. Rose swallowed, shaking her head, and then there was a tear, finally a single tear that rolled down her face.    
  
“No. He didn’t kill her.” Rose wiped her cheek and stood, her face resuming a mask of emotionlessness. “I have to go check on the orphanage. Let me pass.” James knew Rose wouldn’t lie if Harold had killed Sarah Jane. She would have hinted just like she did all the time, answered his question with a question. At least there was that. Sarah Jane hadn’t been a victim.    
  
“Can I come?” James followed after her as she peered out the door. At her signal he followed, and he realized she was checking for guards. “I would like to see what you’re like as Queen among her people.”    
  
“You were going to come regardless.” Rose snorted, as they came out of the stables to where Donar and Kalliope were standing side by side with a stable hand. “Weren’t you?”    
  
“Not if you said no.” James tried to catch her eye, as she mounted with some assistance. Rose wasn’t looking at him, just gathering her reins. “You know that right? I’ll never push when you say no.” He pulled himself into the saddle, following as she turned towards the main portcullis   
  
“Whatever.” Was Rose’s response, as she nudged her new mare into a trot. It struck James then, that he hadn’t seen Astraea once, not anywhere. He wondered where she had gone, but he also knew Rose wouldn’t tell him. At least, not yet, but maybe later. The three guards didn’t question his presence as they reached them, but they seemed concerned as she looked at them. “I have an escort, and he’s armed. Follow if you want, but I’m not waiting.”    
  
James had to chuckle at her obvious disdain for the men, as they scrambled to process her words. Then, Rose gave Kalliope a signal, and James squeezed Donar into a canter to keep pace with her. “Will leaving them behind cause you to be clumsy again?”    
  
“No, they’ll catch up.” Rose smirked, and finally she looked up over at him as they passed under the portcullis. There it was, that spark of adventure, except, no. It wasn’t adventure. That was a look of defiance. The same look she had worn when her proposed law was agreed on. He swore she murmured, as they reached the noise of the town. “Little victories.” What the hell did that mean?   
  


 


	28. Chapter 28

Obviously word had spread through the kingdom that James was alive, but as they rode through the town, Rose could still see the shock at his presence. Many, she knew, were wondering if he was going to try to take the throne. She wondered too, though she only voiced her concerns once to Harold, and many times to Juliza. Harold was a good ruler, but she didn’t know if James would be. Once upon a time, she had sworn he was. Now, she didn’t know.    
  
James confused her, and Rose didn’t like that. He had never cursed before, not really. The odd damn or hell had slipped, but a blatant growled fuck was new. There was also the whole deal with him being angry that she had been hurt, the admittance he had withheld truths. He was volatile, swinging from tender words to the barely contained Oncoming Storm in a blink. He had grabbed her, then released her at her insistence. It made her head spin, and Rose hated feeling confused.    
  
She had just gotten over figuring out exactly how Harold worked. She knew him, knew her husband, if he could be called that, undeniably well. She could read his intent by the smallest movements. Now, James had to come in and shake it up. She couldn’t read him, couldn’t predict him. Rose hated it all. He still looked at her like he used to, but that had all been a lie, hadn’t it? No, she wouldn’t let him play with her. Harold didn’t lie, but now James was being honest.    
  
It had been his words in the stable, the simple sentences where she had almost slipped up. Rose had forgotten how he had apologized, how she had slapped him and he was willing to release her from their engagement, to tell everyone he had hurt her, and denied that she had struck him. Now, as they rode closer to the orphanage, she could almost smell the sawdust, see the tears on his face in the dark, snowy afternoon. For one brief moment, she had felt safe when his fingers caressed her abused arms. Then she had remembered he had taught Harold.    
  
“Your Grace!”   
  
“Queen Rose!”   
  
“Your Majesty!”    
  
The voices of the children outside playing stirred her from her reverie as she shook her head. They washed the cobwebs from her emotions, and she reined Kalliope to a stop. “Little ones!” Rose dismounted swiftly, laughing as she was enveloped in the sweet, untainted, innocence of their arms. She dropped to her knees, seizing the first child she could into a hug. It was Caleb, a boy whose father had died in Skaro and whose mother had passed of a fever shortly after, and she buried her face in his ten year old shoulder to breathe in that smell of childhood happiness. “I missed you.”    
  
“It’s the prince.” A girl whispered from her right, voice soft with awe. Oh, to be as unmarred by the world as she was. Rose missed the naivety of youth. She pulled away from Caleb, as the boy looked up, and up, and then went wide eyed.    
  
“Hello!” James was grinning ear to ear, as he bowed to the little girl that had addressed him, taking her tiny, seven year old hand in his. “And what is your name, little Lady?”    
  
“P-p-Petunia!” She stuttered, her cheeks flushing as she curtsied. “You’re really alive?” Rose couldn’t help but snicker as James chuckled.    
  
“Last I checked.” James blue eyes flicked to hers for a moment, and Rose saw something in them that Harold’s had never once held when he came to visit, compassion. No, she couldn’t be fooled that easily.    
  
Rose stood, extending her hands for any child to take, and let herself be dragged up the steps. “So what’s going on with my children today?” She giggled as they all launched into descriptions of their lessons, games, who had gotten an apprenticeship where, and who had been adopted. That always made Rose happy, when one of them got adopted. It was a rarity, but it happened.    
  
It was easy to get lost in it all, to catch the eyes of the two teachers, the cook, and whichever of the three staff were on duty that day. Here the world was good. It was pure, sweet, with no alternative agendas, no whips, no punishments. This was a paradise, a bubble of happiness that got Rose through her weeks. Here, she knew without a doubt, that she was loved. She loved them all too, would do anything to prevent the world from crushing them, but she couldn’t do that. What she could do, was keep them from burning to death in their sleep.    
  
“Here, like this.” James’ voice drew Rose’s gaze away from where some girls were showing her the new dresses they’d gotten for the coming winter. He was seated cross legged on the floor, five year old Leon perched in his lap wearing his crown, with a slate and chalk in their hands. “The L goes this way.” He held up his hands, demonstrating the L created by his left finger.    
  
“You is smart.” Leon exclaimed dragging the chalk across the board. “L E O N!”    
  
“So are you!” He patted the boys head, as he jumped up and scurried away to right more, taking James’ crown with him. Rose looked away as James’ eyes moved to hers, happiness on his features. She had forgotten how he smiled, all teeth, eyes crinkled, ears lifting up. Now he had more crinkles around his eyes, and that difference made Rose remember what he was.    
  
“You’re missing something.” She pointed out, and James arched an eyebrow before touching his brow. Then she looked away as he scrambled after Leon.    
  
“I like Prince James more better than the King.” Joanna, a lovely redheaded girl of nine whispered to her younger sister Gertrude. “He plays with us. King Harold just gives us lectures about doing our lessons.”    
  
“Lessons are important.” Rose didn’t mean to sound so cross, but it was an instantaneous fear of anyone hearing her that did it. Both girls froze, eyes going wide. Guilt so deep Rose couldn’t breathe for a span of three heartbeats hit her. “Oh, Joanna, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound angry.”    
  
“Is it because you were supposed to marry him, and not Harold?” Martin, a brilliant boy of twelve who had a mind for numbers and a hand for woodworking asked casually. Rose always permitted them to ask her anything, to treat her as they would an aunt. “Cook was talking about it with Ms. Blackwell when the Prince first came back. They said it must be very hard for you.”    
  
“No, that’s not why.” Rose had to shut that down immediately. “I’ve just had a rough morning. Here, why don’t you three go see if Cook is almost done with lunch.” She needed a moment of fresh air, to regain her wits. Okay, and maybe she needed a swallow or two of wine from her skin on her saddlebag. She headed out of the back, where Kalliope was dosing in the shade of the awning built for horses to be tied when they had visitors.    
  
Her guards were leaning against buildings nearby, chatting amongst themselves, as they had caught up shortly after she and James arrived. Of course, they didn’t look at her. They never did. Their job was to make sure no harm came to her, unless it was from Harold. That they ignored astutely. So she pulled her wineskin off the back of the saddle, and unstoppered the lid. Then she allowed herself a few good, long swallows.    
  
A burst of laughter made her look back through the open door. James was engaged in a wrestling match with four of the boys, while the girls giggled and cheered emphatically. He was so careful with them, even though they were really laying into him with their grabs and holds. Rose was entranced by how they gravitated to him, completely oblivious to his status. They respected Harold, but this was never something he do. Then, James rolled onto his side, his shirt slipping, and even from this distance Rose could see white scars circling his collarbones and shoulders. She hung her wineskin back up, as one of the boys asked about them.    
  
No, she wouldn’t let such tales trouble their innocent minds. James shouldn’t even be here, be around her. He wasn’t a good man. He made Harold, had played the games, and Rose wasn’t going to play them with two men. “I was held prisoner for a while, and they hurt for a while. My friend Martha, she patched me up every night before she went to bed. She was a prisoner too, but we escaped together. She lives not far from here.”    
  
James hadn’t mentioned any woman during his recount of the tales. He simply discussed himself and Jack. Was this Martha even real, or was he lying to the children? “Martha who?” She found herself asking. If she was real, maybe she needed protecting. Maybe she needed someone who knew what he was capable of.    
  
“Martha Jones, soon to be Smith. She lives down in Lakefall.” James was panting as he disentangled himself from the boys. “She’s getting married at the end of the month.” Rose wanted to ask if she’d be allowed a virginal cloth on her marital bed, but the question was not one for innocent ears. “She’s a healer, one of the best I’ve ever met. You’d like her, your Grace.”    
  
“If she even exists.” Rose muttered. She got a signal from cook, and she clapped her hands. “Okay little ones, lunch time!” The cheers they made instantly washed away her foul mood, and she leaned against the doorframe as they gathered around their long tables. She was hungry herself, but Harold didn’t allow her to eat anything that hadn’t gone through his tasters. Lunchtime meant it was time to return to the Castle. “Bye everybody! I love you!” She waved as they called out farewells. She wished she could stay, could just forget it all and be as ignorant of the world as they were.    
  
“Time to go?” James followed Rose out, watching as the unbridled happiness slowly melted off of her features. She had been so happy, so free, and he had been so caught up in their time with the children that it was hard to imagine she was anything but that smile. Now, as they stepped into the noon sun, light caught the green lock charm as she untied Kalliope, and his Rose was gone. “Here.” He bent down to help her mount.    
  
“I have to have lunch with my husband.” She said simply, but there was no love in her voice, the smile long gone. James had seen his smile on her with the children, just once, but when their eyes met it had vanished. Rose had looked so confused, almost drunk every time they had crossed gazes. “You can stay. Regale them with stories of the high seas.”   
  
“I’m your escort, remember.” He shook his head as he mounted Donar, watching as the guards finally broke apart from the walls where they were glued and fell behind them.    
  
“Will Martha have a virginal cloth on her wedding bed?” Rose’s whispered voice was thick with sarcasm and venom. Honestly, James would take that over flat and emotionless. “Or did you sully that for her like you did the mother of your aborted child?”   
  
“Excuse me?” James almost fell out of his saddle at her words. She wasn’t looking at him, just posting gracefully as Kalliope trotted up the street. “I’ve never been with a woman, apart from kissing!” He hissed back, so as not to let the guards or passersby hear. He couldn’t believe the accusations coming from her mouth, the crass bluntness of it. What lies had Harold fed her? So much for Juliza’s words that Harold never lied. “Unlike your husband.” He poured all the hatred he could into the word. “He sired at least four children that I know of. Only one is alive and breathing.” Shit, he’d let his anger carry away with him. Rose’s eyes snapped to his, wide in shock. “You know as well as I that he can’t know she’s alive.”    
  
“You will tell me later, where she is and how old she is, but not here.” Rose’s voice was panicked, and James realized he had just put her in a position she’d dreaded to find herself in. “But Harold doesn’t lie to me. I know he’s impregnated women. He told me before we married, and when one of my handmaidens, Myrna, ended up with child.” The way she winced at the words told him she had found out exactly how the child was conceived too little too late. “He sent her to Patrick for medicine to end the pregnancy. He said he learned from you about it.” There it was, that distrust and fear of him in her eyes. “When we were engaged, no less, James. How did you know, if not because you failed to save yourself for marriage?” Her fuming frown implied that she was thinking ‘or raped’.    
  
“Because, I was getting a dislocated shoulder set when a kitchen maid came in asking for it. Her knight lover had married some other woman and left her three months gone.” James remembered that conversation, the blush of shame on the girl’s face when she realized he was in the room. “As for Martha, I almost died defending her virtue from a man just like your husband.” There, let her stew on that. Honestly, had his brother sullied her memories of him so badly. “Ask her for yourself. Come to the wedding, look her in the eye, and ask her about how I slit the man’s throat, how I almost had to walk the bloody plank, if she hadn’t claimed she owed me a life debt for doing it.” He didn’t mention the crisscrossing scars on his back, how they sometimes still ached when the weather turned foul, how sometimes he dreamed about being tied to the mast.    
  
“It doesn’t matter.” Rose growled, and James saw her face scrunched tight with confusion again, like she was trying to decipher a scroll in a foreign tongue. Gods above he hated Harold for turning her into this. He was working so hard to find something, anything to call question on Harold’s rule.    
  
Yes, he could have easily demanded Harold abdicate, but the people trusted him, and he didn’t have the allies for a civil war. His grandfather and aunt were still reeling with the thought, and they would be coming down if not preparing for winter. Pete Tyler would side with whomever Rose did, and right now that would be Harold. It boggled his mind that Rose was so terrified of his brother’s threats to speak. She was the bloody queen, and all she had to do was summon her father and his banner men to the castle and show him the scars that were obviously covering her body. So, James was having to do things the hard way, with Jack and Juliza gathering information as much as possible. Somewhere, besides Thea, he had to have slipped up.    
  
“I think you’ll find that your opinion of me, of my honor, matters as much as it always have, if not more.” James needed Rose to believe him. She was the key to ending it all. If he could get her to trust him, even in the slightest, then Harold would fall. Oh he wanted her to love him too, but that was secondary. James wanted her free, to never see her fear for her safety, to never watch as she flew into a panic just at a touch. If that meant she left him in the process, went home to her parents, then so be it.    
  
“I’m going to be late.” Rose replied, as they reached the portcullis. She kicked Kalliope into a canter, and James followed. She looked back, rolling her eyes. “Seriously?!” Kalliope sped into a gallop as Rose soared her over a hedge to cross the grounds. James gave Donar a signal, and his larger mount caught up as his stride extended. Rose’s look had flickered to one of fear, and as soon as she gasped. “No, stop following me.” James reined Donar in to a slow walk, turning him in a circle, watching as she galloped to the stables, dismounted as soon as someone had the reins, and dashed up the path to the castle. He needed to get to Jack, to start digging deeper. Because, if he waited much longer, he feared Rose would be lost forever.    
  
“Come here!” Harold roared, grabbing Rose by her arm. He rarely yelled, as his preferred method of chastisement was cloying, smirking, insults, and it was horrifying. She didn’t resist, as he yanked her into the dining area, pinning her against the wall, and pressing his nosed into her hair, her neck, her chest, and then her lips. Each movement was accompanied by a sharp inhale. “Good, you weren’t out whoring around with him.” He released her with a growl. “Arm, now!” Rose squeaked, heart racing as she lifted her sleeve and began unrolling the bandage. “Did he see these? Did he?!”    
  
“Yes!” Rose felt her heart lurch at the bellowed question. “But I lied. I said broke a vase, and he believed me. I swear he believed me, because after that he asked when I got so clumsy.” It was only a half truth. James had gone along with the lie for that, but their subsequent conversations had implied he knew the truth. “He followed me to the stables, wanting to visit the orphanage. I went to the supply room like always, and made sure they were patched up. He walked in, and and he offered to bandage them. I didn’t let him!” Rose was nearly crying, and she fell to her knees. “Please don’t kill Tony. Please, Master. I didn’t tell. I didn’t!”    
  
Harold was glaring down at her, and Rose reached up, clinging to his trousers. He wasn’t speaking, just staring at her like he wanted to rip her head off. She hadn’t meant for this to happen, but if Harold killed James like he had made her kill Sarah Jane, people would start to question too much. “Get up, Blossom.” His face shifted, as one hand extended slowly. Rose took it, rising to her feet. “Come with me.”    
  
She followed him to the bedroom, relieved as he gestured to the kneeling bench. She could handle a beating, an assault, anything except a death. Rose couldn’t be responsible for another soul on her hands. “Did he try to gain your trust?” She nodded once, her mind replaying everything James had told her, confessed to her. How much of it was true? How much was lies? She didn’t know, but unless Harold asked directly, she wasn’t risking some child dying. “Do you trust him?”    
  
“No, Har-Master, he scares me.” That was true. She watch as he picked up the stamp he used to mark wax, and she was confused as he held it over the flame of an oil lamp. “I told him never to touch me, or I’d scream.”    
  
“Good girl, now.” Harold looked back at her, as the metal began to redden. “Reach back and lift your skirts. This is your punishment for being so careless with tending your wounds, and, should any man ever decide to try to take you away, a reminder of whose wife you are.” Rose bit down on the wood of the kneeling bench. Lifting her skirts and underdress up as he moved behind her. The flaming hot metal pressed into her skin on her right rear cheek, and Rose screamed into the wood.   
  
The pain was absolutely unbearable, and without ropes or straps to hold her in place, she fell to the side. The metal pulled her skin with it, and Rose had to swallow the vomit back before it sullied the carpet. She could smell the flesh in the air, and she knew that it would scare exactly the way his horses and hounds had when they were branded. She didn’t cry though. Rose didn’t have the tears to do it, not for her pain. Tears were for when she was forced to watch one of her handmaidens get defiled, beaten, and then forced to her mouth. That was Harold’s favorite part, making her clean his fluids from their bodies.   
  
“Beautiful, darling. Now, shall we have lunch before you see Juliza?” Harold tossed the stamp aside, extending a hand. Rose took it, only because her muscles protested standing on her own. “Good girl.” Stumbling as the material of her dress caught the burn, Rose let him take her back to the table. “Now, unlike when he had claim on you, I won’t forbid you from being alone with him.”    
  
Rose whimpered as she eased herself into her chair, her appetite gone as the pain burned up her spine to her stomach. “Yes, sir.” She managed to whisper. The room spinning as she shifted her weight to her unmarked side.    
  
“I know you aren’t stupid enough to betray me.” Harold reached over and squeezed her hand. “Because you would never let him touch you like I do, would you?” Rose shook her head. She wasn’t just afraid of James’ capability to hurt her, but if she ever so much as flirted with another man, well that would be the worst hell. One by one everyone she loved would die, starting with the orphans. “Tell me you love me.”    
  
“I love you.” Rose forced herself to smile, as he picked up her fork and handed it to her.    
  
  
  
  


 


	29. Chapter 29

Rose was avoiding James again. It wasn’t that he openly tried to get her alone to talk more, because he couldn’t. She was never alone anymore. If Juliza wasn’t glued to her hand, then she was surrounded by stablehands, in the kitchens, or being escorted by her guards. The rare group dinners she kept herself in Harold’s earshot at all times. It was killing him slowly to see how she smiled, but there was no light in her eyes.    
  
“Juliza won’t say what happened.” Jack growled, melting out of the shadows of the royal library. James jumped where he was reviewing the previous years’ treasury reports. He was trying to find the money where Harold had paid off Jacques. So far, there was nothing. “Says Rose has forbidden her to tell anyone, but it was bad. Bad enough that she thinks Rose isn’t going to fight him much longer.”    
  
Guilt was eating James alive. He shouldn’t have followed her into that supply room. He should have just asked her to let him ride to town. Juliza had already told them that was why Rose had been punished, but it was getting what the punishment was out of her that was proving fruitless. “I was getting through to her. I know I was. I just need to get her away from Harold, the guards, somewhere she can open up.”    
  
“There’s something else.” Jack looked miserable as he folded himself into a chair. “Rose didn’t tell you the whole truth about Sarah Jane.” James clenched his fists in the after midnight darkness around them. “Harold didn’t murder her, not directly. He forced someone else to give her the poison.”    
  
“Did she say who?” James’ vision swam red. Rose had lied to him! She had blatantly lied and said Sarah Jane hadn’t been murdered. His thoughts spun, until he remembered the exact wording. Harold hadn’t killed Sarah Jane. Rose hadn’t lied, just manipulated the truth, just like Harold.    
  
“No, but she says the person didn’t do it willingly. Harold made them choose between a family member or her, and Sarah Jane told them to pick her.” It was the shared look in the oil lamps that told James he didn’t need Juliza to tell him who had been forced. ‘She’s dead, because I’m clumsy’ Rose had said. It had been the only time since his return that Rose had cried. Oh, his precious girl. How much worse this all was than he feared.   
  
He wasn’t angry with her for doing it, and forgiveness wasn’t necessary to give either. James buried his face in his hands, as hopelessness, anger, fear, and longing were clashing in his soul. “Is Martha coming tomorrow?” He muttered softly, trying to push the tears back into his own eyes. Juliza had told him Rose had mentioned the wedding to her, and that she wasn’t even going to bother going. It seemed so crucial for them to meet though, and James knew that it may wash clean some of the hold Harold had on her memories.   
  
“I received her raven just after lunch. She’ll be in the market at noon. The excuse will be buying a wedding gift for Mickey.” Jack moved behind him, rubbing his shoulders as if he could take the weight away as easily as unclasping armor. “And Rosie has already agreed to let me escort her into town. I told her I was interested in finally getting a squire. There has to be a boy there that wants to train.”   
  
“There’s a few.” James dropped his hands to the table, staring at the rows and rows of tightly scripted numbers and words. “I’m glad she trusts you at least.” He grumbled. Rose had no reservations when it came to Jack at all, never flinched from his arm when it was extended, would pause to chat in the hall, and even joined him for a brief tea this morning after the council meetings.    
  
“She’s tired, James. You don’t see it, because she acts so... firm I guess, with you.” Jack squeezed his shoulders before stepping away to sit down. “She used to blush when I flirted with her, would quip back about me being improper. Now, she just looks at me like she wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole. I’ve had to stop myself from picking their chamber door three times in the last week.”    
  
“Try living above them.” James pulled at his short hair. Always, in the middle of the night, he could hear them. Well, he could hear Harold, his voice traveling up the empty fire grating as he grunted, groaned her name, called her Blossom. He never heard Rose though, not even a whimper. “It kills me a little more every time.” He could picture her there, lying on her back, eyes closed, waiting for it to stop. That was the lesser of his mental images. Juliza had told him all about the contraptions in the room, the chains, the whips, knives, and paddles. He never heard them, but he had no doubt Harold was probably gagging Rose to keep the noise down.    
  
“What if I just don’t bring her back tomorrow.” Jack was staring at the lamp, and James jerked at his suggestion. “It was a stupid thought, I know.”    
  
“Don’t say it again.” James had been wondering the same thing. Why not just steal her away, go back to Jaques’ ship, barter a passage down south, far beyond Harold’s reaches. Then again, what would the cost of blood be. He knew what kept her here, oh he knew. Juliza had told him all about the threats, which James had no counter for. All the men loyal to him were retired, gone back to their homes or working elsewhere. He had sent requests for them to return, but the only response had been from Octavian, the former commander of his father’s guard. Upon retirement, he had gone into priesthood. He was Father Octavian now. “Go to bed, Jack. I’ll clean up here. I need your wits about you if you’re escorting Rose, and remember-“   
  
“Don’t bring you up. She’ll shut down.” Jack sighed, nodding as he stood and left. James swallowed his pain, and resumed his research.    
  
Rose liked being with Jack, almost as much as Juliza. His presence was soothing, comforting. She never worried about his mood, because he was perpetually smiling and flirtatious. He may be shameless in regards to his fleshly desires, but all of his partners were more than willing. Few women were immune to his charm, and even a few men found themselves questioning themselves when he flashed those eyes their way. Jack would also never raise a hand to her, never cut his voice or growl a slur. Slag he may be, but he was good inside and out.    
  
That’s why, when he tempted her away from the orphanage half an hour early, with promises of the best pastries she’d ever tasted, there had been no hesitation in looping her arm through his and making her way through the town. Harold had allowed her to have only him this morning, claiming Jack smart enough to know better, and as deadly with a sword as his men. It was a brief moment of freedom, and she reveled in it. “Taste, go on your Grace.” He wiggled the berry pastry he had just bitten at her. If Harold knew, there’d be hell, but who would tell? Certainly not the baker’s wife counting the gold.    
  
Rose snapped a bite, moaning in delight as the ripe, warm berries burst on her tongue, their tartness mellowed by the sweet of the dough. “You, Miss.” She giggled after swallowing. “Must make these for the Yule gala!” She turned to smile at the woman, who was blushing profusely. “I won’t hear a word against it! They are absolutely divine. Come to the castle in the morning, tell them you have an appointment with Helena at my orders!”    
  
“Yes, your Grace!” The woman curtsied and Rose swiped the tiny pie from Jack before he could take another bite.    
  
She leaned into his arm, nibbling politely as they walked. When she had her fill, leaving less than half of the treat, she passed it back to him. “I missed you so much, Jack.”    
  
“Missed you too, Rosie.” He murmured, so nobody would hear his slip of etiquette. “It’s good to see you smiling. Maybe on the ride back, you’ll miss me enough to sing.”    
  
“I’ll think about it.” Rose might sing. She was in the mood for it, her mind free of anything but his company. They were passing a weapons shop, when the door opened, and a lovely woman with dark skin, and a bright smile stepped out. She had her back to them, telling the shop owner not to forget the delivery date. “Easy there!” Rose called, as she stepped directly into their path.    
  
“My apologies!” The women turned, and her eyes went wide. “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry.” She dropped into a curtsy, and Rose shook her head, touching her shoulder to tell her to rise.    
  
“Martha Jones, voice of a nightengale!” Jack laughed, releasing Rose to pull the woman into a hug. Rose’s stomach clenched at the name, and she felt her panic set in as the woman laughed, pulling back to smile. “What’re you doing here?”   
  
“Jack!” The woman hugged him again with a warm smile. “Shopping for Mickey’s wedding gift. Oh I missed you!” Martha pulled back, glancing at Rose with an apologetic grin. “My apologies, your Majesty. I didn’t mean to intrude.”    
  
“None needed. Any friend of Jack’s is a friend of mine.” Rose sized the woman up, looking for the tell tale signs she knew so well. The beautiful woman was radiating nothing but happiness as Jack released her. What Rose did see was the faded scars and callouses that James and Jack shared, evidence of years at sea. “You’re the Martha from the ship?”    
  
“Yes, ma’am.” Martha nodded, but Rose couldn’t calm her curiosity. She had to know if James had told the truth, but she couldn’t ask right out.    
  
“Would you like to walk with me a bit?” Rose gestured left with her most inviting smile. Jack must have taken the hint this was girl talk, because he fell back into an escort position, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “I have so many questions, because they rarely talk about those two years.” Martha fell into step at her side. “I understand you’re a healer.” It was a good way to broach. She had mastered the art of putting other women at ease. “The best James has ever met he said.”    
  
“I’m a healer, but I don’t know if I’m that good.” Martha’s reply seemed genuine, and Rose noted a lilt of friendly affection as she continued. “Jam-Prince James just tended to need more patching up than the others.” Rose could tell there were stories in her eyes, ones that would lead the path she needed to get Martha on.    
  
“You can speak freely with me.” Rose somehow knew this woman held a key to the truth, the answer that would ease some of the confusion to her muddied world. Who was the real James, and who was the James Harold had slowly carved into her mind? If they were different at all, that was. “They came to the ship from a prisoner camp. How bad were they?”    
  
“When they first came on board, they were half dead with infected torture wounds.” Martha shook her head with a sigh, and Rose felt a twinge of sympathy. She knew how badly torture wounds could turn. “As they recovered, James said he could use a healer like me at the castle. He said when he escaped, that he would get my family to safety and send the fleet to rescue me.” That seemed like something he would promise, but James promised a lot of things, and he concealed just as many. Rose needed more information. “He said he wanted me to be your midwife, after you mar...” her voice trailed off as Rose drew a sharp inhale. “I’m sorry, your Grace. I shouldn’t have said that, because he isn’t your husband.”   
  
“I’m fine.” Rose had told the lie so many times it rolled out with a smile. She was far from fine, as she realized James had been so sure he’d make it back quickly. Why did he want to, out of jealousy that his brother would defile her first, or out of love? The opposite truths made her head spin. She took Martha’s hand, squeezing it softly. “Being on a ship with all men is hard. James and Jack, they were gentlemen weren’t they?” She tried to pour the comfort that had eased so many women into opening up to her in her voice and touch. “If not, you can tell me.” She kept her voice low, so as not to draw attention.    
  
“Besides Jack being, well, Jack.” Martha squeezed her fingers back with an amused smile. “They were perfect gentlemen. Jacques had a rule on the ship, and that was nobody touched me.” Then her eyes shifted, and Rose saw it. She saw the glimmer of fear, the short intake of breath. “A new man came on board, and he... he cornered me in my room. I screamed, and James.” Just his name made Martha relax, and Rose realized before she finished that he had told the truth of his rescue. “He didn’t even question it. He just barged in, with a knife, and the man went after him. James killed him, and it almost cost him his life.”    
  
“How?” Rose knew he said he had almost died because of it, but he hadn’t expanded on why he had lived. What had happened.    
  
“There was a rule about killing. Only Jacques could execute someone. So James dropped his knife, told Jack to get home to you, and walked up to face his death.” Martha shuddered, and Rose could almost picture it in her mind. She felt a glimmer of affection, like a forgotten ember in an abandoned hearth. No, she wouldn’t think that, and she doused it quickly. “I claimed I owed him a life debt for saving me, and Jacques decided to spare his life... at a cost.”    
  
“What cost?” Rose could see the honesty in her eyes, see the fear of someone she cared for dying. Rose knew it intimately, saw it in her handmaidens, in her own reflection. “Martha, what cost?”    
  
“Twenty lashes, your Grace.” Martha’s voice grew grave, and a full shiver shook over her body. “It nearly killed him. I spent hours, days, tending to his wounds. I couldn’t let him die.”    
  
Rose felt the phantom lashes on her back with a gut wrenching twinge. She’d almost died of eight, and those being treated in some of the best conditions in the country. James had suffered twenty, out on the high seas, with only the basic medicine available. Maybe he wasn’t a rapist then. Yet, Harold had never said he was either. He simply said he had taught him. Maybe James’ penchant was for inflicting pain, seeing women break under pressure, under threats. He hadn’t warned her about Harold, after all. He hadn’t even dropped a hint. James had covered up everything.    
  
“You said I can speak freely.” Martha pulled Rose into a little alley, and Jack took post at the entrance. Rose could see Martha was reading her, that she knew what was under sleeves, why she was favoring her right leg when she walked. “As he lay there, bleeding, delirious with pain, all he spoke of was you. He said he regretted not telling you about Harold, and if he died there he wanted you to know. Your Majesty, he fought so hard, for-“    
  
“Enough!” Rose ripped her hands away. Martha’s face went wide with shock. The warning was too little too late. The damage was done. She couldn’t be saved now. James wasn’t standing up to Harold. Her husband had welcomed him back with open arms and tears of joy. If he regretted not warning her, then it must be regret that he hadn’t gotten to her first. “I’m married to King Harold, and nothing will change that! I wish you and Mickey all the happiness in the world. Safe travels.” Not waiting, Rose turned away and shoved past Jack.    
  
She kept her composure, smiling, nodding, waving, until she reached the orphanage. The children were in lessons, so it was silent as she slipped around it to Kalliope. Then the panic hit her. It crashed with fear, making her head spin and her throat ache. She clung to Kalliope’s neck, inhaling the calming scents of horse, hay, and leather. So Martha go to know the truth of Harold, but not her? Why hadn’t anyone told her? Had she known... oh she would have run when Myrna told her about the rape. She wouldn’t be doubting James’ past, wouldn’t have to struggle to separate real memories from tainted ones. Rose still didn’t know what was real. Was James the man she had loved, or was he hiding a sickness like Harold had?    
  
It didn’t matter anyways. Even if he was good, even if he stood up to Harold and somehow freed her and the others, it was too late. Rose was broken. Her body was ruined. It was marked, scarred, and defiled. Even out here, with only Kalliope for company, she had the sensation of Harold inside of her. She could taste him on her skin, feel his abusive or too sweet touch on her skin. Even now, his possessive claim on her burned below her skirts, a ruptured blister that stuck to her underskirts. The only reason she kept going, was because she had to protect her family, the children, and whatever poor girl would replace her.   
  
Rose was worthless now. Even if Harold was beaten, if she ever recovered enough to trust someone again, if her heart ever healed enough to love, who would want her? Who would want a woman that was so filthy? Who would ever want to see her battered body nude, to touch it lovingly? What about her hands? Even now she could feel Sarah Jane’s touch on them, her final farewell. Her fingers dripped with her blood. Rose had nothing to give.    
  
Gentle, but strong hands covered Rose’s shoulders, turning her gently, and the only blue eyes she would never fear glistened down at her with restrained tears. Rose wanted to cry too, but she couldn’t, all she could do was squeeze his arms and blink. “I know.” Jack murmured, and she knew he was saying he knew both her thoughts, and what she was forbidden to speak. She waited for him to threaten Harold, to offer to whisk her away, but he didn’t. What Jack did was so intimate, in a friendly way, that Rose felt his words pour into her heart like a soothing bath. He curled one finger under her chin, eyes burning into hers. “Rose Tyler, you are worth fighting for.” His words were whispered, but they echoed with their sincerity.    
  
“I’m not asking you to fight.” She whispered, begging him not to leave her alone again. If they fought, and Harold one. It would be death.    
  
“Tough, we’re going to anyways.” Jack brushed a thumb along her jaw, and Rose felt the dampness finally form in her eyes. It was just a bit, but it was there. “Now, my beautiful Queen, back to the Castle.” He released her to kneel, and Rose used his thigh to mount.    
  
“I love you, Jack.” Rose smiled at him, meaning every word in the most sincere way. She didn’t doubt him, not for a moment. He had been honest from day one about his distaste for Harold.    
  
“Love ya too, Rosebud.” Jack climbed into his own saddle, giving her a protective smile. It made her feel instantly safe, and she knew if she said the word, he’d march into Harold’s office and go down swinging. “And he does too.” Rose didn’t have to ask who ‘he’ was, and she wanted to believe it. Harold’s smirk and whisper were so strong in her mind. All she wanted to know was the reality, and it was so hard when neither side was lying.    
  
  
  
  


 


	30. Chapter 30

Rose grinned to herself as she recalled the conversation from the day before in her head. The wet grass beneath her boots as she made her way down to the stables sang of temporary freedom.    
  
“ _ Why do I have to stay?” Rose had fidgeted from her perch on the end of the bed as Harold tossed a pair of riding gloves onto his coat beside her. She had been nervous about being alone in the castle with James. Things still weren’t clear, and her sore thighs and aching bottom didn’t help. There was also the fact that she preferred her disgusting husband in eyesight, so she knew who needed her help. “I should be there to help.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Because the city is flooded, and I will not risk you coming to any harm but what I give.” Harold huffed, as if this whole thing were annoying. “The dam is barely holding, and I won’t have you wandering around gathering up children if it bursts!” The autumn rains had come, and they had been relentless in the north. The reservoir lake two days ride to the north was threatening to overflow, and Harold needed to oversee the evacuations.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Why not?” Rose couldn’t help the sarcastic tone as she scratched at the bandage on her inner thigh. Another brand, as he seemed to have found a new hobby in watching her skin sizzle. She hadn’t been ordered to dress yet, but the low fire in the hearth kept her from shivering, as did the developing bruises on her biceps and hips. Not that she could see them, as the red blended with the already green and purple mottling there. “Then you could find a new wife, another virgin to claim.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Harold’s snarl was followed by the belt he was coiling thwacking across her shins. “Mind your tongue, or I’ll brand it next!” He tossed the belt aside, reaching over to grab her by the throat. She gasped, grabbing at his wrist as she felt her face redden. “Besides, by the time I return in a week, your cunt will be nice and tight again. Two thrusts and I bet you’ll bleed all the same.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I bleed for a week and you won’t touch me.” She gasped, her vision swimming as he tightened his fingers. Then she was shoved back.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “That’s dirty blood, and I won’t sully myself in it.” He sneered at her, and Rose gasped for air to clear the stars in her eyes. “You better be on your best behavior when I’m gone.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “When am I not?” Rose pushed herself up, coughing softly to ease the throbbing in her throat. “Besides, just like you said. I’m yours. You think I’m going to fuck the guards?” His eyes flashed to hers as he chuckled. “Yeah, don’t worry husband. I’m well aware no man would want me after seeing this.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Oh I could think of at least one.” His dark tone made Rose shiver. “But, you’re too scared of him to even let go of my hand when he’s in the room.” James, hells bells he was talking about James. His lips twisted up in a conspiratorial smirk, and it chilled her blood. “He’s staying here, and he will be keeping an eye on you.” Rose didn’t doubt that. James was always watching them, always with that look, the Oncoming Storm. Rose never knew who it was focused on, and the idea it may be her was terrifying.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ It had been a week since the marketplace set up. Rose had figured that out after her mind had cleared, but set up by whom? If it had been Jack, then fine, but James? That made things complicated. “The castle town is basically stalled with the flooding up north ending trade for a while, and nobody is coming to court.” Rose knew she shouldn’t ask, but she missed riding in the Kingswood. She’d have no duties for a few days, and if the skies were clear and the river hadn’t swollen, the trees would be turning. “Am I allowed to ride in the Kingswood? Please?”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Harold paused, and Rose lowered her head to hide behind her tangled hair. She had intentionally be extra submissive during his hunger for her earlier, barring the sass she had just thrown, just to ask for this. “Yes, Blossom, but take at least two guards. The boars and bears will be foraging before winter.” Tally another win for her. Honestly, sometimes she wondered if he knew how she turned his game on him sometimes. “And only if the river isn’t to the bottom of the bridge.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Thank you.” Rose tucked her hair behind her ear, staring down at the scars and bruises on her arms. It was hard to believe that less than four months ago they had been so flawless and smooth that he had likened her to a moonlily. “Can I get dressed?”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Come here first.” Harold held out a hand, and the sweet beckon at his words made her groan internally. She took it, shifting across the bed until they were eye to eye. “Tilt your head and move your hair.” This was a new order, but at least he didn’t have a blade or belt in his hands. She arched her eyebrow, ready for him to get on with it so she could cover herself. “A little something to remind everyone who you belong to.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Rose yelped as he pulled her to his chest, and his teeth and lips closed on her neck above her expensive collar. She had to grab his shirt to hold herself upright as he sucked and bit and groaned into her neck. It hurt, but not like the other wounds. She knew what he was doing, marking her, flaunting his authority so she’d see it even while dressed. Nothing but her winter clothes covered this high. “Prick.” She panted, and she fell to the side as he released her.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Now get dressed.” His eyes danced, and Rose shot him her most hateful glare as she scurried off the bed for her discarded dress.  _ __   
  
Now the skies were somewhat clear, and if Rose played her cards right, she could get at least two hours away from everything except the guards waiting for by the gate. The air was nippy, but it was fresh, filled with the cleansing aroma the rains had left behind. When she grew closer, though, she felt her smile falter. James as adjusting Donar’s girth as a a stable hand fastened saddlebags into place. “Where are you going?” She groaned.    
  
“Into the Kingswood for a ride while the sun is out, your Grace.” James didn’t smile, and his eyes only held hers for a second. “And you?”    
  
“Same.” Rose felt that uncertainty rise again, and she hated it. Had he known she was going riding? She hadn’t told anyone but Juliza and the waiting guards. She looked away as Kalliope was led over, nickering eagerly as she jostled her head. If they were going to be out in the woods, woods with lots of places to hide, to hunt, she’d rather him be in eyeline of her guards. She hadn’t been in the Kingswood since the attack Harold had staged, and the memory blazed fresh. “You want to ride with me?” The question tumbled out so quick, and James’ eyes snapped to hers.    
  
“Thought you didn’t want to be around me.” He huffed, pulling himself up in the saddle and adjusting his riding cloak. “Or was that an excuse to get back to your adoring husband?” He put some heavy sarcasm in the last two words, and Rose balked as his eyes locked onto her neck.   
  
“I met Martha.” She snapped back, mounting with some assistance, and nudged Kalliope forward without looking back. Let him take that for what it was worth. Her guards were waiting, and she wanted as much free time as possible before being locked back in her cage by the rain.    
  
James had to scramble to keep up with Rose. He wasn’t angry with her, hadn’t meant to be cross. He was just frustrated. Yes, Juliza had told him she was going riding. Yes, he had intentionally gone out ahead of her to saddle Donar. He had every intention of being polite, but the mark on her neck had kindled his anger. Harold was taunting his ownership of her in his face. Rose wasn’t someone to be owned. She deserved to be free of this all.    
  
Of course he knew she had met Martha. Jack had told him everything. Including the breakdown Rose had been whispering into Kalliope’s neck afterwards. He also knew Rose was now at a tipping point. Juliza had said he was getting through to her, but now he’d gone an pissed her properly off. “Rose, I’m sorry.”    
  
“For what?” Her eyes flashed as she cantered past her guards, and Dona kept pace. “Huh? I can think of about two dozen things you could apologize for. None of which even matter anymore!” Yeah, she was angry, but anger was better than fear. Anger could be calmed.    
  
“Slow down!” James knew if she got too far ahead of her guards, then Harold would be livid when he got back. “Unless you want to make him angry for abandoning your guards.”    
  
“Oh that’s right.” Rose slowed Kalliope down, and James eased Donar into step. The guards cantered up behind them, keeping their trained distance. “You’re keeping an eye on me. That figures.”    
  
“What does that mean?” James was confused, but Rose didn’t answer, she just stared pointedly ahead. He always kept an eye on her, barring the two years he’d been away. “Why do I even ask? You never answer.”   
  
“Why don’t you ever just leave me alone?” This time her eyes did meet his, filled with confusion and fear and annoyance. It was heartbreakingly beautiful.    
  
“You know why.” James stared down at the ring on her hand. He had given it to her, and Harold had defiled the love behind it. He glanced back at her guards, judging their distance before whispering softly for her only. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to, but I didn’t think you’d believe me.”    
  
“I used to believe everything you told me.” Rose seethed, and the betrayal in her voice made his chest ache. Why did Harold have to bend her memories so much? Didn’t she have a single good one? Just one memory of their time together had to be unsullied. “And then you died. The world changed, and I grew up.”   
  
“I didn’t die.” James tried to put as much tenderness as he could into the word, needing Rose to trust him.    
  
“Shut up, and let me enjoy my ride.” Rose sighed, and James heard the roar of the river as they drew near the bridge. The rains and flooding from up north had swollen it from a trickle to a cacophony. It was at least one arm beneath the bridge, and the spray slicked the already rain soaked wood. Donar’s ears pinned back, and he saw Kalliope side step. “We shouldn’t cross.”    
  
“And you aren’t the boss of me.” Rose growled, urging Kalliope forward. James wasn’t about to let her get away that easy, and he nudged Donar onto the wood. He heard the guards follow, but paid them no heed. Rose was pulling ahead, and the last thing he wanted was to see her punished for riding without an escort. At least the river to their left would down out their conversation.    
  
“Did you ask Martha about what I said?” Rose just nodded, and he saw her shake her body as if trying to clear away a spiderweb. “Then you know I’m not him. He would have joined in.”    
  
“Harold doesn’t like to share.” God, even without him around she was still defending him. Then again, who knows what he said about the guards or James. “Can we just ride quietly. I don’t want to talk about him, or you. I just want to breathe.” James could take a hint, and he kept his mouth shut. He did notice that she kept to the path, not wandering off as she had once been so inclined to do.    
  
They had gone maybe fifteen minutes in silence when the rain let loose without mercy. “Your Grace!” One of the guards called as Rose swore at the clouds. “We need to go back!”    
  
“Fine!” Rose looked absolutely despondent as she turned Kalliope through she downpour. James let her guards lead their way back, as he took up the tail. Donar was irritable, his ears pinned back, and James looked around to find the source of his discomfort. The river was rising again.    
  
“Rose! Go! Now!” He bellowed. “The river!” To her credit she sped Kalliope up as much as she could without the mare loosing her footing in the mud. When they reached the bridge, James’ heart was racing with the danger present. Her guards crossed their finicky mounts, but Rose was fighting with Kalliope. The mare was refusing to go near the bridge.    
  
“Come on girl!” Rose turned her in place, and James pulled Donar back as his stallion began to fight for his head. “We have to cross!” The water was hitting the bridge now, making the wood and stones creak and groan.    
  
“Your Grace! Leave her and come!” One of the guards yelled through the downpour and the crack of thunder that echoed around them. Then James saw the cracks, the way the bridge was crumbling. “Hurry!”   
  
Rose climbed off of Kalliope, and she hated the way the rain water made her burns and cuts sting through her dress. She led the mare forward, as James shouted her name to stop. The river was swelling so high, and Harold’s warning that she better not cross if it was at the bridge made her stop. Did he mean going or coming? Would crossing be a worse beating than staying?    
  
“Rose! Don’t! Please!” James’ voice, the raw panic of it made her look back at him. He was off of Donar now, trudging through the mud with his face contorted in fear. Harold hadn’t looked at her like that, ever, even when she had nearly died of fever. No, she wouldn’t... she needed to cross. Rose tugged Kalliope forward, but as she placed a foot on the bridge, she felt and saw James’ fear.   
  
It was crumbling, small parts breaking away, as the water battered over and into it. She had to get over, now, or be stuck in the Kingswood with him. Kalliope was a good girl, but not then. The mare was fighting, pulling back, and Rose just wanted to get to the other side before the bridge gave out. The stones shifted under her feet as she pull the mare again. The front hooves met the stones, and a snap reverberated so loud Rose screamed.    
  
The bridge was falling to pieces under her, rolling and swaying as she stumbled. Kalliope yanked free, backing up, and Rose felt herself drop. “No!” Three men were yelling all at once, but only one moved. Like the cold rains and frigid waters tugging at her legs had slowed time, Rose watched as the trees grew further away. She was scrambling for purchase on the stones. She didn’t want to drown, but it was too late. The river was mercilessly pulling her into it’s currents, and her abused arms and muscles didn’t have the strength to hold her on the edge she was grasping. All she could think, was that Harold would have a whole new chain of victims.    
  
“No!” A strong arm wrapped around hers, pulling at her sleeves with a roar of defiance. “Rose, hang on!” James holding himself up by Donar’s reins with one arm, and his other was straining to keep her from being yanked under.    
  
“I don’t wanna die!” She sobbed, as tears burst free. They were probably lost in the rain, but she didn’t care. Rose had to survive, had to be the one Harold used. “Don’t leave me!”    
  
“Never, I swear, never again Rose!” James could see that she was crying, even in the torrents around them. She must be terrified if tears had broken free, and he pulled hard. The river was so strong, and the bridge was breaking fast, but he wouldn’t stop. If he relaxed even a fraction, Rose would be swept away! “Back!” James called and whistled at Donar, who took a mighty step back. Rose moved higher out of the water. “Back!” Her feet were pushing on something. “Back!” He bellowed, and with a sob from his love she was sprawled on the muddy bank beside him. “Away from the river.” He released Dona and pulled her coughing and sobbing form higher up.    
  
“We can’t get to you!” The guards called, and James saw they had dismounted but looked like they hadn’t even tried. “Is the Queen hurt!”    
  
“No!” James gasped as Rose fell to the side gasping and coughing. “Go back to the castle. I’ll see to her Majesty! I know somewhere to keep her warm.” With another peal of thunder, the guards were mounting and heading off.   
  
“So cold.” Rose was shivering, as the adrenaline wore off. She hadn’t really registered the chill of the rain and water until then, and she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. She had almost died, had put herself in harms way. James was pulling her to her feet, and she yanked away. “No!” She had to get back, to begs the guards not to tell. Harold would be furious with her. He would burn the children for her stupidity. She stumbled to Kalliope, needing to mount, to find another crossing. James was grabbing her, shouting above the rain and the river, but his words didn’t make sense.   
  
“Hypothermia!” James spun her, eyes wide with fear. “Do you understand?!”   
  
“I have to go! The guards...” Suddenly she was in the saddle, and James was on Donar, clutching her reins as the horses surged up the path. “Take me back!” All she do was cling to the saddle, or she’d fall.    
  
“We can’t cross!” James didn’t understand. Didn’t he know the rules. “Almost there!”   
  
“Where?” Rose hoped it was another bridge, somewhere for her to get back. Harold couldn’t know. They were in an overgrown grove, but the rain was so heavy it pierced the branches overhead. Her hands and face were numb, as he leaped down and began pulling branches and vines away to reveal a stone house with a heavy door.    
  
“Get inside!” He ordered, yanking her down and dragging her inside.    
  
No. She couldn’t go in there. Yet the door was slamming shut, blocking the biting rain and cold wind. He was outside, and Rose looked around.    
  
Metal crates were stacked along the walls, and a low table was covered in a sheet. It was so dark, but the little light from the overgrown windows revealed sheathed swords, daggers, shields. The dust and leaves said this building hadn’t been touched in years, and reality hit her.    
  
The walls closed in, confining her, caging her. This was were he taught Harold how to play. It was isolated, away from the path, hidden from sight. “Let me out!” The windows were locked as she tried them, and the only escape was the door. It was opening again, and Rose fumbled for her dagger. In her rush to ride, she had left it behind. James was coming in, and Rose reverted to the only thing she had left. “Please, please let me go.” She dropped to her knees, as he shut the door, curling in on herself, and waited for the attack.    
  
James dropped the saddlebags as soon as he saw Rose curl up. He had gone out to take the horses to the small stables of the safe house, and checked the grating over the tunnel to see if it would open. It had rusted shut. The sight of her, curling in on herself, begging to be let go was devastating. “Rose, sweetheart, no...”    
  
“This is where you taught him, isn’t it?” Her words were shaking with fear and cold, and they cut him so deep he couldn’t breathe. He knew she was too far lost in her head, in her plunging temperature and shock, to calm, so first she had to get warm. He tried to touch her, but she slapped at his hand. “No, no, he said only he can touch me. If you do...” James tried again. He had to get her upright and by the hearth so he could make a fire. “No, you can’t... only Harold... no... don’t.” She was rambling, and the need to get her warm overpowered the need to convince her.    
  
“It’s a safe house.” Talking always calmed her before, and he stumbled to the wood box in the corner, thankful when it was stocked. He threw some in the empty fireplace, digging kindling from the box, and taking the flint and steel from their slot. Three strikes and the fire began to build. “What are safe houses for, Rose? Safety, right? Come by the fire. You’re going to get sick if you don’t get warm.” Oh how he wanted to scoop her up, but if he did, she would just break more.    
  
“This is where the siege tunnel leads?” Finally, she was thinking, but the absolute fear in her voice was unbearable. Rose uncurled, crawling to the fire, her soaked dress leaving a path in its wake. “Y-y-you won’t t-t-touch me?” James shook his head, though every fiber of him was longing to pull her into his arms. She looked away, lips tinged blue, teeth chattering as she rubbed her arms.    
  
Shuddering himself, James forced himself to work. There were clothes and blankets, stored away in case of an attack on the castle. The emergency shelter was only checked on every few years, but luckily the boxes held what he needed. He dug out a tunic, some leggings, and blankets. Shaking the dust free of them. He didn’t think as he spoke, reverting to the tone he used with his soldiers when they were in battle shock. “Take off your clothes.”    
  
The silence that filled the room drowned out even the thunder, and James regretted his tone, his word choice, too little too late. “Yes, Master.” He spun, heart shattering and pounding all at once with the two quiet, trembling words, and he found Rose standing, staring blankly down as the floor, reaching behind her to unlace her dress.

  
  



	31. Chapter 31

Rose’s fingers were numb as they fumbled with the laces. This day had been coming, whether she was Harold’s toys or James’. There was no where to run, to hide. He would chase her, and he was stronger, faster. Harold had sworn no man would touch her, but he wasn’t here. Her guards weren’t here. James had her caged. Maybe if she obeyed, didn’t struggle, he would only do minimal damage, something Harold wouldn’t notice. She had been so stupid to believe James or Jack or Juliza. Harold had fooled everyone, still did, and he had learned from the man ordering her naked now.    
  
She slid her dress to the floor, kicking it aside as she reached for the ties of her undergarments. “Sorry, M-master. My fingers are numb.” She was so cold, her whole body quivering with it, with dread. Harold always got impatient, and she knew James would too.    
  
“Rose, don’t.” Why did James sound so defeated? He had won. He had gotten her alone, would finally get to use her for his own sick pleasure. She looked up, blinking in confusion. Why was his back turned? What was he holding in his shaking hands?    
  
“Master, I don’t under-“    
  
“I’m not Harold! I’m not your Master!” The choked shout made her jerk in on herself, fingers yanking the laces free as she shoved the drenched material down. “I would never, ever ask you to call me that, make you do those things.” He shook the bundle in his hands. “I’m sorry. I meant for you to get dressed in these.” Rose’s terrified mind couldn’t make sense of his words. “Dry clothes, Rose. Hurry before your temperature drops anymore.”    
  
His pleading sobs snapped Rose back to herself, and she tossed her remaining clothes aside. What had she done? She had blown everything. He would tell. She had failed the test. Everyone would die. “James I can explain.” She grabbed the musty clothes, pulling them on, cursing as the sleeves were short and exposed her arms and all the evidence.    
  
“Rose, you don’t have to explain anything to me.” She clenched her eyes shut as his wet clothes came off, and she dug her fingers into her thighs as the room spun. Her family, the children... what had she done? “You’re only behaving exactly as the Master.” The venom in his words sent her scrambling for the wall, sliding down, pulling her knees up as her mind conjured images of poisoned parents and burning orphans. “Taught you to act!” His shout was accompanied by the sound of boots hitting the wall.    
  
“Please, don’t tell him.” Rose covered her head, trying to force her tears back as her eyes pressed into her knees. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to fail his test. Please, I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be good.” She would. Rose swore it. She’d be so good, better than. She wouldn’t fight anymore. She’d mind her tone. She’d try to love Harold, like the pain. James’ growl was so like his brother that Rose pulled her at her wet and filthy hair, needing to feel something. The anger without pain was too terrifying. She heard him move closer, and she prayed for him to hit her. She had been bad, the worst kind of bad.    
  
“Rose, love, look at me.” James’ voice was gentle, but he didn’t touch her. “I won’t tell. I promise, just look at me. Please.” Why wasn’t he touching her, forcing her to obey? She knew how to handle that. “This is all my fault, all of it.” Rose snapped her eyes up, finding him kneeling an arms length away, holding a blanket in his hands as tears streamed down his face. She had known it. Harold was right. James had taught him everything, but why was he crying. “Come here, sweetheart, come by the fire and let me explain.” Rose released herself, taking the blanket and crawling past him to wrap it around her by the fire.    
  
James hated Harold, but at that moment he hated himself. He had left Rose, not by choice, but he had. Not only that, he had left her ignorant to danger. This, all of this, her fear, the way she broke down into the submissive mess before him, was his fault. She wasn’t speaking, just staring at him with those guarded, fearful eyes.    
  
“Harold told you I taught him how to be the way he is.” Rose nodded silently, and James had to battle back his anger to stay calm. “He was right, but not like you think. I was trying to catch him, first when animals turned up mutilated and tortured, but I had no proof. The, as he got older, it stopped. Thought maybe he had changed. Then he got Victoria pregnant, I helped them to keep it quiet, so she wouldn’t face shame. That was my mistake. Because, then the rapes started.” Rose didn’t seemed the least bit phased by the words, though they killed James inside. What was worse than her silence, was the accusing way her eyes bore into his. “Some girls in town we discovered, but the refused to name who. Then, when we were visiting Arcadia, a girl name Alisandre came to Jack begging to see me. Jack said she was visibly upset, but didn’t have any bruises on her. I was in a meeting, and when I got free to go see her, their house was consumed in flames. She, her parents, and her brother died.”    
  
Rose gave a squeaking noise, and James looked up. The blanket had slipped, and he saw her arms. They were worse than before, covered in bruises, bite marks, and cuts. None of her skin was the cream he remembered in his dreams, just one continuous mottle from wrist until it disappeared under her sleeves. How much worse was the rest of her? James didn’t understand how she was even functioning.    
  
“I knew it was him, New he was the only ones with the means to keep them quiet.” He stared down at his hands, ashamed he had let it go so long. “ I told Jack, of course, but I didn’t have proof. You know as well as I do that Harold is a charmer, everybody was convinced he was absolutely perfect. I knew I needed a witness, somebody would say something.” Heaving a sigh he met her troubled face again. It was hard to believe she was only eighteen, because those once dazzling amber eyes were haunted and shadowed. “Then girls started turning up pregnant, claiming rape, but never naming an attacker. The ones that fell pregnant, if they didn’t turn up dead during, their babies always did shortly after birth. Almost had him cornered, just before you came to court. Then the attacks stopped, or at least the women stopped telling their families.”    
  
James could see that Rose’s fear of him was lessening, but she still wasn’t speaking. She was listening though, absolutely still, eyes intent on his face. “I wanted to tell you, Rose. I Swear I did. But you adored him, I didn’t think you would believe me if I didn’t have the proof.” James had to force himself not to take her hand. He knew she would shut down if he did. “I know he told you that I hurt you that day because I was angry with you. I wasn’t. I was terrified.” Her eyebrows rose just a tad, and he saw her touch her arm, the one he had marred, had kissed better, had begged her forgiveness for. That one incident had been a perfect door for Harold to get to her, and James would regret it forever. “I tried to warn you then, as best I could. I almost told you that afternoon in the library, when you overheard us arguing.” James watched as she looked down at her fingers, and he hoped he was getting through to her. Oh he hoped with all he had he was. “It was my investigations, my search for the proof, that taught him how to be sneaky, how to hide it, how to find the perfect threats to keep his victims silent. That’s what he meant by I taught him how to be this way.” Her eyes met his again, softer, and he saw no confusion there anymore. “I never, ever do anything like what he does. If My father was alive, this would’ve ended as soon as I came home.”    
  
“He didn’t die.” Rose’s guarded tone said it all. James had known, and now it was confirmed. Harold had murdered their father. “Just like you won’t die, if he ever finds out you saw me like this.”    
  
“Harold won’t kill me, or I’d be dead already.” James had been waiting for an attack, but it hadn’t come. He knew Harold was enjoying rubbing Rose in his face far too much, enjoyed flaunting his immunity as King too much to risk it. “ because he knows you won’t speak against him.   
  
“I can’t.” Rose tucked her hair behind her ears. “Ever, because I can’t.” James knew that she had too much to lose, and he couldn’t fault her for her silence. “Please don’t ask me to.”    
  
“I won’t, but I need to know.” James kept his voice soft, not wanting to show her how desperate he was to hear her words. “Do you trust me?” He wanted to say love, but knew she would never answer that as long as Harold was alive.    
  
“I don’t trust anyone.” Rose whimpered softly. “I don’t even remember how it feels anymore.” Oh his precious girl looked so defeated, so broken inside. Tears clogged his throat, and he watched in agony as she laid down and curled up on her side. It was hard to believe, seeing her like this, that she was the queen, not two hours before had been slinging daggers with her tongue at him. “We can’t talk anymore. I can’t lie to him. He knows when I do.”    
  
“Are you warming up.” James knew she wanted to change the subject. He wouldn’t push the conversation further than Rose could handle. “How about another blanket for a pillow?”   
  
Rose was thankful James had taken the hint. “Please.” If they had talked anymore, She’d have broken the rules. She hadn’t yet, hadn’t said anything bad, admitted anything. Everything felt too much, too intense, and she accepted the blanket he offered her, tucking it under her head. She stared into the flames, trying to clear her mind.    
  
“The guards told you to cross.” James’ words were muffled a bit as he had wandered over to the saddle bags. “If he gets angry. They should have sent you over first anyways, following up the rear. They were idiots.”    
  
“Yeah.” Rose sighed, considering his suggestion. “Good idea.” She blinked as a wine skin and handful of dried meat came into view. “Always take a snack while riding.” She murmured, recalling their first ever riding trip into the Kingswood together. “Thanks.” She took one, chewing it without tasting. She didn’t even sit up, but she couldn’t stop the flinch as he splayed out with his own blanket beside her, his eyes tender and concerned as they roamed over her face.    
  
“Do you hate me?” James sounded more timid than Rose had ever heard him, like he was as terrified of her as she was of Harold. Had he asked hours ago, the answer would have been yes, but now, No, she didn’t hate him. She didn’t know if she still loved him, would ever be healed enough for love again, but there was no hatred.    
  
“No.” Rose lifted up enough to rinse the bite of meat down with a swallow of wine. Her stomach hurt too much, was too tight with dread to eat anymore. She just wished he had come home sooner, maybe then... but wishing was for children. “I need sleep. I almost died today.” She laid back down, trying to show him she didn’t want to talk anymore.    
  
“Sleep, Rose.” James reached towards her, and Rose couldn’t help but recoil. The pain in his eyes hurt her, but not like it may have before. He simply pulled her blanket up higher, and she relaxed. He had promised not to touch her, and he wasn’t. Rose hadn’t known one simple request could bring so much relief. “Would you like me to sing, or rub your back?” Rose shook her head, closing her eyes. She didn’t know how to process the absolute but sad adoration in his eyes anymore. “I’ll never stop loving you.” He whispered.    
  
“You should.” Rose couldn’t handle it anymore. She needed silence, to sleep, to maybe be so exhausted that Harold’s face wouldn’t haunt her dreams. If James ever knew what she had done, to Sarah Jane, to her handmaidens, he wouldn’t love her. He would hate her, and Rose couldn’t blame him. Everybody would hate her. She rolled to her other side, putting her back to him.    
  
Watching Rose roll away from him made up James’ mind. Fuck getting proof, trying to convince someone to speak out. A plan was forming in James’ mind. He was going to irrefutably destroy him, publicly, where there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind. It had to be soon, because James had a feeling if he didn’t, his Rose wouldn’t last the winter.    
  
  


 


	32. Chapter 32

Rose had slept, quite a bit. At first James was worried, but then he realized this was probably the first time in months where she had felt safe enough to fully relax. The rain had stopped for a bit, somewhere around sunset, but when he went to check the river it had still been raging. When he returned, she was awake and coming out of the woods, looking far too adorable as she stumbled drowsily past him to her blankets. He had coaxed her into eating a bit more of the meat and drinking some more wine, and when the rain started again, she curled back up.    
  
He had been exhausted too, lying beside her but with a distance for her comfort to sleep. A dream of war woke him, what seemed like hours later, though the only sign that it had been so long was the fire had gone out. James had remade it, since the night air was chilly, but Rose was still dead to the world. He longed to touch her hair, when she whimpered, to ease whatever nightmare she was trapped in, but he didn’t. He had promised not to touch her, and he wouldn’t violate that. She’d been violated enough.    
  
Thunder had woken him again at dawn, the sky barely gray through the drizzle, and he ached as he sat up. He had stumbled into the woods for a brief relief, and then came back in to remake the fire again. The air in the shed was frigid, almost making his breath fog. He had knelt beside her, knowing she must be starving, and he felt his breath catch when he saw she was sweating and shivering. The blankets were far too thin to overheat her, so he brushed her hair back just a bit to see her whole face. Rose’s cheeks and lips were flushed, but the rest was so pale. She had blinked at him, mumbled about her leg burning, and then drifted off again.    
  
James hadn’t been able to stop himself, and he’d shifted her blankets, rolling the legs of her trousers up. They had been as bad as her arms, but what scared him was the sutures in her right calf. The wound was swollen, seeping, and hot to the touch. He knew wounds like that wouldn’t normally get infected so quickly, but her whole body was stressed, compromised, and being exposed to the debris laden water and mud must have caused it.    
  
James had panicked, covering her back up, trying to figure out how to get her home, when the door opened. Fredrickson, Jack, and one of the new guards were there, holding blankets and cloaks. The men he trusted had guessed he would bring her here, and they had been working since early morning to open the tunnel. James had carried Rose through the tunnels and out, where Juliza and Patrick were waiting anxiously. Rose had been locked in the healer wing for two days, and then escorted to her room. Juliza had told him that the cut wasn’t the only open wound that had festered, and she and Patrick had worked none stop to keep it from entering Rose’s blood. Also, the cold water had caused her lungs to fill with phlegm. He was sick too, just a head cold and mild cough, but nothing major.    
  
Thats why he was pacing the foyer, waiting for Harold to come in. The idiotic guards responsible for her accident were kneeling where he had ordered them, looking far too smug for their own good. James planned on taking care of them while Harold’s anger was at its highest.    
  
“Where is she!” The doors blew open, and Harold stormed in, ripping off his traveling cloak and gloves. “Where is my wife?!”    
  
“With Patrick and Juliza.” James stepped in front of him. “These two morons nearly got her killed!” Harold froze, and James watched as his rage filled eyes turned on his men. “The river was rising, and instead of sending her over the bridge before the current hit it, they went instead. They kept telling her to cross, even when the water was cresting over it.”    
  
“Idiots!” James smirked in satisfaction as Harold stomped over to them. “She could have died, and you sit there looking innocent! She’s your damn Queen! Her safety is your priority!” James didn’t even wince as Harold backhanded one. “Luckily for my wife, my brother has common fucking sense.”    
  
“They didn’t even try to help her.” James added, encouraging the anger to be spent on them. “They just stood there and watched as she and I nearly died when I went after her.” Snorting in derision he moved to Harold’s side. “Then, it wasn’t until someone told Fredrickson and Jack what was happened, that anybody thought to take the tunnel to the safehouse. Luckily, it was still stocked so I built her a fire and gave her blankets!”    
  
“Someone take these blundering idiots fo the cells and hold them there until I say!” Harold snapped and two more guards ran over. Then he turned to James, still seething. “How bad is she?” He began walking towards the stairs.    
  
“They said something about a couple wounds she got when she fell in the kitchen the other day getting infected.” James had rehearsed this story with Juliza, who was going over it with Rose. “And a nasty lung infection from the cold. I tried to get her to change quicker, but she wouldn’t until I went to check on the horses.” He followed Harold up, trying to see if he was buying the story. “Rose was terrified, and still is I think. She won’t let anyone see her.”   
  
“She gets that way when traumatic things happen.” Harold’s anger seemed to lessen, and James masked his relief. “Did you two talk about anything interesting?”    
  
“No, I mostly just babbled to keep her from going into shock, and then she slept. I mean she slept from midday to sunset, had a drink or two of wine and then slept until yesterday evening.” Harold’s face relaxed even more. James had become very good at lying, living two years pretending to be someone else. Finally it paid off. “She hates me, and I don’t know why.”    
  
“You were gone for two years, and then showed up acting like you expected her to wait. Of course she hates you.” Harold smiled a bit smug, and James fixed his face into disappointment. “Give her time, and she’ll come around.” They had reached the inner courtyard, and Harold stopped him. “I’m going to check on my.” He emphasized the word. “Wife. I’m sure she’s been asking for me.”    
  
As if on cue, which it was, the door to the royal wing opened and Juliza stepped out. She looked properly shocked, and then curtsied. “Your Grace, Queen Rose has been asking when you’re arriving. She said she needs you urgently.”    
  
“Told you.” Harold sniffed as he walked past him, and James waited until the door was shut before smirking.    
  
“She doing okay?” James whispered as Juliza glowered at the door. It had been a long two and a half days of coaching Rose between Patrick’s treatments. Luckily, the fever was still hanging around, so she was playing sleepy and sick quite well.    
  
“Yes.” Juliza released a sigh that made her pretty features relax. “He won’t physically hurt her when she’s ill. He never does. As vile as he is, Harold actually does tend to her expertly when she’s sick.”    
  
“Only so he can fuck with her head.” James growled. “Did you get it?” Juliza pushed the two small folds of parchment into his hand, and James tucked them up his sleeve. It was a low move, and Rose would be livid later, but it was necessary. She couldn’t know what he was planning, because she might slip to Harold. “Thanks, now I have a best friend to argue with.” With that he turned on his heel and left. He watched as Juliza disappeared into the corridor.    
  
James’ plan was intricate, and it had to be handled with the utmost caution. Juliza had written two letters, detailing the abuse Rose was receiving, as if they were from Rose herself. Then she had waited until Rose was thoroughly muddled by her medicine and said they were urgent orders for winter supplies for the stable and orphanage. Rose had marked her name and sealed the wax with her stamp none the wiser. Next would come the hard part. One was going to her father, via Jack. The other James was hand delivering to Father Octavian in one week’s time.    
  
The week would be the time needed to get Jackie and Tony away from the manor, and for Pete to gather together some of his bannermen. James was involving Father Octavian because he still had some influence over his father’s Kingsgard in the town. Then, the rescue would begin. Juliza’s part was honestly going to be the hardest, as she would be sacrificing herself as both a false victim and a real one.    
  
She was going to ‘accuse’ Jack of trying to get her to break her maiden vows, at which point James would then dismiss Jack from his service. Jack would ride immediately with Rose’s letter. Then Juliza was going to anger Harold enough to choose her as her next victim. Rose’s cycle would be on by the time her father and his bannermen were in the Kingswood. James and Jack had protested against her part, but Juliza had insisted she could handle it better than the other handmaidens.    
  
At sunset, Peter, Jack, and the bannermen would enter the siege tunnels, which James would have unlocked. Once Harold retired for dinner in his chamber, which Juliza assured meant he wouldn’t leave until Rose was thoroughly beaten and forced to watch him attack her, James would send an urgent messenger to the high council for a meeting, and hopefully Father Octavian and whatever men he could muster would split up. Some would guard the orphanage, and the rest would follow the high council in. James would drug the guards on duty just before he dispatched the messenger. Pete’s bannermen would take care of securing the barracks and gates.    
  
The hoped for results would be having Pete, Father Octavian, and the high council with him as he busted down the bedchamber door and caught Harold in the act. Juliza had assured him the torture sessions often lasted three to four hours. There would be no denying it for Harold, no running, and Rose would be safe in her father’s arms. All he had to hope for, was that Rose could survive the week. Physically she would, of course, but Juliza said she was sinking further and further in on herself. James knew that, had seen it with his own eyes. She just had to last.   
  
“Harold?” Rose blinked through the haze of drugs and medicine Patrick kept shoving down her throat. A soft, but cold hand was stroking her cheek, and the mattress was sagging to her left. She really felt horrible, aching, weak, abdomen hurt from coughing, and it felt like a platoon of horses was sitting on her chest. “I don’t feel good.”    
  
“I know, Blossom. I understand your guards nearly cost you your life.” Harold’s voice wasn’t angry, or threateningly sweet. That was good, because she really felt horrible. So horrible and hot that his fingers felt pleasant on her skin. Rose sighed softly, trying to find his face. She needed to see if he was frowning. “Here, Rose.” Good, no frown, just eyebrows narrowed in concern.    
  
“‘M sorry, I didn’t mean to fall.” Rose turned her face away as she coughed, clutching her stomach as it burned from strain. “Please don’t hurt the children. It was an accident.”    
  
“Of course it was.” Harold pressed a cold rag to her cheek, and it was absolutely bliss to the burning skin. Rose whimpered, turning her face into it, needing more relief. Everything felt weird, disjointed, and foggy. “I punished the guards, but...” No, no buts, Rose felt panic, and it was followed by a pounding in her head. “You were with James for a while.”    
  
“Yes Master.” Rose couldn’t lie. She only hoped he didn’t ask the wrong questions. “He saved me, took me to a safe house, made a fire.” More cool wiping, and she fought to keep her eyes open. Everything hurt all over, worse than the worst beating. Even her hair hurt. “Didn’t show him. Didn’t tell him. Promise.”   
  
“You don’t trust him do you?” Harold’s voice was that soothing sound again, the one that made her worry, and Rose shook her head. She didn’t. She didn’t know what trust was anymore. “That’s good.” The rag was gone, and Rose whimpered as he lifted her up by her shoulders with one arm and pressed a goblet to her lips. “Slow sips, you need to drink now.” Her throat was raw and burning, so Rose accepted the mixture of water, wine, and medicine. “Juliza said you’ve been asking for me all morning.”    
  
“Wanted to tell you I was sorry for almost dying.” Rose had been so afraid he would be angry, and he wasn’t. James was right. He was mad at the guards. “‘M not in trouble?”    
  
“No, I know you know better than to try to kill yourself again.” Harold eased her back, and Rose’s vision cleared enough to really see him. He looked too satisfied, and she realized some poor girl had probably taken most of his rage inside of her before he came home. Her stomach rolled at the thought. “Are you going to be sick?” Rose shook her head, remembering that she had to play nice. It seemed important to Juliza that she be good.    
  
“Will you lie with me for a while?” Even as exhausted as she was, Rose hated asking. Yet, Juliza had asked her to distract him for a while. Why? Rose couldn’t remember, the pain syrup and fever made everything muddled. “Stroke my face with the cloth. Feels good.” That was true. She wanted Juliza back to do it, but she was meeting Jack or something. She couldn’t remember. Everything between her talk with James and this moment was jumbled, murky. “Please, Harry.”    
  
“Blossom, did you actually miss me?” Rose couldn’t see him, because her eyes were closed. She did hear his boots hit the floor, his coat and sword join them. The the bed was sinking to her right. The cool, wet cloth was back, and Rose moaned before a cough racked her body. “Shhhh I’m here, let’s see if you make that noise again.” The cool material stroked down her neck, and the sensation was bliss. She couldn’t help it, as she rolled her head to the side with a sigh. Then the sheets shifted down, and the fever easing cloth touched her sweaty chest.    
  
Rose shivered, gasping at the relief it sent along her skin. Maybe she would ask for a cool bath, because the cloth was so beautiful that submerging fully in the water would be divine. Rose didn’t even care who helped her into it. The bath earlier had been hot, filled with herbs and powders to make her cough open up. The steam had made her sweat, made her sticky. “More water.” She mumbled, and after a moment, the cloth was on her skin again. Her head was pounding, everything hurt so much, but the cloth was so soothing. It curled along her face again, down her neck, and the sensation made her moan again. If he kept doing that, Rose could sleep again. Sleep sounded better than a bath.    
  
“Roll over.” Harold pushed Rose to the side, and she went, too weak to ask why. The heat and sweat on her back was wiped away, and Rose rested her cheek against a cool spot on the pillow. The sheets were pulled off of her completely, and the air of the room sent goosebumps along her skin. The cloth was gone, and she eagerly awaited its return. It didn’t, and Rose began to panic as Harold shifted over her back.    
  
“No... no!” Rose was too weak to protest, too inebriated by her medicine. Her left leg was pushed up, and she felt him. “Please don’t.”    
  
“You can’t moan at me like that and not expect this to happen.” Harold tsked her, and Rose sobbed as he thrust into her. Unconsciousness was a welcome friend when the headache and pressure all over became too much, and by the time she recovered, the worst was over. She was curled up with her head on his bare chest, while the cloth traced the curves of her face. “Shhhh, Rose. Go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” His comforting tone made her hate him even more.    
  
  


 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Oncoming Storm is unleashed

Jack was gone, and Rose wanted him back. She missed his soothing presence, his wit, and his humor. She hadn’t seen the argument, but Harold had been amused to no end when he described it to her. Apparently he and Juliza had been flirting, and while she was prepping the handmaidens chambers for their return, he had made advances on her. Juliza swore they hadn’t been forceful or cruel, but seeing as how she was still in employ as a handmaiden, she had to report them. Since Rose had been recovering, and she didn’t want Harold killing the man, she had gone to James. Unfortunately James had been a bit drunk, and what should have been a private chastisement had turned into a heated argument that spilled out of James’ office into the inner courtyard.    
  
James had accused Jack of being determined to sleep his way through every woman in the kingdom, that he was sick of dealing with his loose morals. Jack had called James a jealous prude that was upset because he couldn’t find anyone willing to take him. James had apparently shouted that waiting for the right woman wasn’t prudish, and Jack had said the right woman wasn’t coming along unless he moved on from the one he’d never have. Then James had punched Jack in the face. Jack had spat back that it was a cowardly move to do that, since he couldn’t hit him back without being arrested. James had dismissed Jack from his service and told him to get out of the castle.   
  
Now Jack was gone, and Rose didn’t even know how to find him. She would have hired him on as one of her personal guards, but he had left with all his belongings by nightfall. To add to the mess, James had become completely cold. For all his claims of undying love, he was ignoring her. It hurt her for some reason, and Rose didn’t know why. Harold, of course, found it particularly pleasing that his brother had become so irritable, pointing out it was only a matter of time before his true colors started to show. If Rose didn’t know better, she’d have believed him.    
  
The chill in the castle halls wasn’t just from the approaching winter now, as Rose found once again her only true friend in Juliza. That freezing air filled the downstairs dining room heavily, as Rose picked at her lamb and fruit sauce. She wasn’t hungry, partly because of her dread of what would come after dinner, and partly because she felt the cramping in her lower back and abdomen that accompanied her cycle. Harold didn’t seemed phased, as he swallowed his wine and spoke. “So, James, you’ve been spending a few evenings at the basilica. Not thinking of taking the cloth are you?”    
  
“Yes, actually.” Rose looked up at his words, surprised. She had been assuming James had been searching for a way to stop Harold. Apparently she had been wrong. “There aren’t any suitable matches for me amongst the titled women of Gallifrey, and I have found no real purpose here anymore. I feel like the gods are leading me into their service. I’m still praying on it, seeking guidance from the priests.” James wasn’t even acknowledging her questioning look.   
  
“Well, it isn’t a matter to take lightly.” Harold hummed, and Rose went back to picking her food. Obviously James knew there was no stopping things now. She didn’t blame him for giving up, because she would if she didn’t have so much to protect. “You’d have to forfeit your crown, all claims to our family.” She could hear the victory practically oozing from his voice.   
  
“I’m aware.” James didn’t sound too upset by all of that. “You and her Grace will no doubt be expecting heirs soon, and the line will continue. It’s time I seek a higher calling.” He was right of course. Come spring the lack of pregnancy rumors would become suspicious, and Harold would no doubt want to put a child in her to quiet any talks. The idea frightened her to no end, as Rose knew he would raise any sons to be just like him, and no girl children would last long.    
  
“It would suit you.” Harold chuckled, and Rose had to resist rolling her eyes. Priesthood would not suit James in the least. She couldn’t even remember him praying outside of blessing feasts. No, this had to be something else, some other reason, but she couldn’t fathom what. “Though I’ll miss having you in my army should war rise again.”   
  
“I’ve had my fill of war.” James grunted, and Rose flicked her eyes up to find him staring at his meat with an indescribable expression. “You proved your skill on the battlefield more than once, and now Gallifrey is at peace.”    
  
“That it is, but not by my rule alone.” Harold touched Rose’s arm, and she smiled in her learned way at him. “My Queen has worked just as hard to see things run smoothly.”    
  
Rose forced herself to cough, using it as an excuse to move her arm to cover her mouth. Her illness was basically gone, but the cough had lingered through the day. “I’m sorry, still a bit sick. Perhaps I should excuse myself and try to sleep a little early.” Harold’s eyes darkened, and she knew he was thinking about how little sleep she would get until near midnight. He hadn’t done more than take since the one time after his return, emphasizing how he needed her well enough for him to enjoy tonight.    
  
“Of course, Blossom. I’ll be up shortly myself.” With his permission, she excused herself from the table.    
  
The worst of it all was the not knowing, as she made her way to their room. Harold hadn’t chosen a handmaiden this time. That had fallen to Juliza, punishment for how her friend had snapped this morning, calling him a monster and a bastard. At first, Harold had been determined to sell her, but Rose had begged him not to. She had pointed out that training someone to replace her and her healing skills would be too bothersome, take too long. So, he had decided to turn Juliza into a monster.  He wanted her to choose and bring one up. Harold was a master at mind games, but this was the first time he had truly turned it on her handmaidens, apart from the initial threats. He had told her how he wanted the girls to wonder why she picked who she picked. Did she dislike them? Did she want to see them suffer?    
  
Rose felt her already sour mood drop further, as she watch the castle wine down around her. She wondered, she had so many times, how none of the other staff and visitors knew what went on behind closed doors. Then she wondered if it would be worth it, worth the stain on her hands to kill him. Maybe she could do it so it seemed an accident. What if she slipped poison into their wine decanter before bed one night, and they both died? There’d be no heir, and the kingdom would be in an uproar. Unless she did it before James took the cloth. He had to do something, because every day she found herself slowly fading away.   
  
Opening the door to their bed chamber, Rose listen for the telltale sobbing. It was only silence. Looked around her gilded cage, sighing heavily. Then she opened the door. “Oh, sweetling I’m so sor-“ her apology fell short as she saw Juliza sitting on the edge of the bed looking strangely calm. “ what are you doing?”    
  
“I chose me.“ Juliza that is if it were the simplest answer. “I choose to be his victim.” Rose gaped ar her calm demeanor in shock. “He didn’t say I couldn’t choose myself. He just said I had to pick a handmaiden. I’m a handmaiden.”    
  
Pain and  Shame tore through Rose, as she rushed to hold the woman. “Juliza, no! He’ll be furious! He’ll torture you worse!” She had to stop her, to keep Juliza from suffering.    
  
“Nothing he will do tonight is worse than me watching people I love suffer.” Juliza wrapped her arm around Rose, and they clung  to each other. “He Orchers me every morning when I turn to you, or when I find one of the girls in agony.” Rose squeezed her even tighter, and then Juliza whispered. “Speak of the wolf, and you will see his teeth.”    
  
Rose pulled back in shock at the quote, The words that had been engraved, embroidered, and painted on so much of her childhood. She shook her head fiercely. “No I’m a Saxon now. Great men are forged in fire.” She moved to begin stripping down. “I stopped being a Tyler months ago.”    
  
“No, Rose!” Juliza grabbed her hands, something warm and hard pressing into her palm. “You were born a wolf, and you must remain a wolf!” Rose opened her palm to see her father’s ring in it. How had she gotten this? What had happened? Panic flooded her as she met Juliza’s pleading but confident eyes. “Tonight, you must howl, my Queen. You have to fight! You can’t be silent anymore!”    
  
“I can’t.” Rose shoved her father’s ring into a drawer of her night dresses to hide it from Harold. What had happened to her family? Harold hadn’t said anything. Had he killed them, did Juliza know before she did? “You know what happens.” She heard the main door to the chamber open and hurried to kick her dress off. “I wish you hadn’t chosen yourself.”    
  
“Disobedient again!” Harold’s growl made Rose turn, and he was standing there seething. “Juliza, what did I tell you to do?”    
  
“Choose a handmaiden, and I’m a handmaiden.” Juliza’s tone was absolutely loathing, as she squared herself proudly. “I refuse to play your games, you disgusting prick? Sell me into whoredom! Beat me, because you have no idea-“ Rose had never seen Harold strike a woman in the face, but he had started moving as soon as Juliza started speaking. Her words were cut off as he backhanded her so hard she fell sideways. “Fuck you!”    
  
“Rose, give me my whip.” Harold growled, holding out his hand. The sight of blood trickling down Juliza’s jaw as she struggled to her feet did it.   
  
“No!” Rose shoved him hard, the long forgotten rage building inside of her. “No! I won’t!” Harold moved back two steps, eyes turning murderous. “I’m done! I’m done being your toy!” She lunged for the dagger collection on the rack, grabbing the longest one, spinning on him. This was it. She didn’t care anymore. If her family died, if the orphans burned, if she was beaten and bloodied. He had to be stopped. She had forgotten his sword, in the fury of her movements, and it was out, meeting her dagger as she lunged.    
  
“Someone forgot their place!” Harold laughed as he shoved his sword down and out, forcing the blade from her fingers. Juliza roared in fury, scrambling for it, and Rose grabbed for the blade in his hands. Harold grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm back, the cold metal across her throat. “Now now, Juliza. Drop it, or you’ll be facing charges for the assassination of your Queen.”    
  
Rose pleaded with her eyes for Juliza to do it, to stab him. She didn’t care anymore, and would gladly die if it meant someone besides them would see her body. James would insist on an inquiry. Juliza would testify. “I hate you!” Juliza’s voice cracked as she tossed the dagger aside. No, no! She told Rose to fight, and now she was giving up? Why? Rose struggled against Harold as he dragged Her backwards, moving out from behind her to shove her into the wood X.    
  
“Smart girl.” Harold chuckled, and Rose spit in his face as he came around to cuff her arms. She screamed, kicked at him, tried to do something, but she gasped as he kneed her hard in the gut, making her eyes go unfocused as she gasped for air. Then, like so many times before, Rose found herself naked, bound to wood, realizing she had ruined it all. “Now, you little bitch.” Harold rounded on Juliza, backing her towards the bed. He tossed his sword across the room, scooping the coil of rope from the chest. Rose felt tears streaming as he grabbed her hair in his other hand. “Strip down. You wanted to fight, well now you get to taste what my wife gets when she struggles.” Juliza met Rose’s eyes, and mouthed a single word ‘howl’. Sucking in as much air as she could, Rose began screaming every insult she could think of.    
  
James watched as Harold whistled his way from the room. So far, the plan was in motion. Tony and Jackie Tyler were tucked away in a cottage on the outskirts of his grandfather’s territory. Jack had killed the two men following them when they left. Then he and Pete had hurried to gather bannermen. It had been rushed, with only collecting thirty, but he was also bringing twelve of his most fierce battle and hunting wolves. Jack had left a sign that they were in the Kingswood by sneaking onto the grounds this morning and leaving Pete’s ring in Kalliope’s saddle bags, which James had passed to Juliza.    
  
James had also gotten through to Father Octavian, showing him the letter, explaining his suspicions of Rassilon and Sarah Jane’s death, and recounted every victim of Harold’s he could remember. It had taken two days, but it had worked. The former commander had managed to rally fifteen of the men most loyal to his father, all of whom also doubted he had died of natural causes. Seven were watching the orphanage for signs of trouble, disguising themselves to blend in with the night time drunken rabble that sometimes wandered. The other eight and Octavian were posted inside an empty grain house near the portcullis, waiting for the high council to assemble. Now James had to drug the guards of the inner courtyard that guarded the royal wings, and send the messenger.    
  
Trying to stay calm, he made his way to the kitchen and charmed the ever sweet Helena into giving him two jugs of wine. When she asked why he needed two, he smiled and said. “Going out to the barracks to drink with the other bachelors!” Which made the women in the room giggle. Once out of their sight, he poured the clear, sweet tonic Juliza had given him into them both and headed towards the visitors library, where he knew the scribes’ apprentices would be studying.   
  
“You, there!” James gestured at a boy of about fourteen. “You know where Lord Grant lives, right?”    
  
“Yes, your Highness.” The boy shot up and bowed. “On the corner of-“   
  
“Go and fetch him, and the other council members. The king has called an emergency meeting. Tell them not to say a word, and to come as quickly as possible.” James jerked his head, and the boy took off at a run. He followed behind him, watching as the lad rushed down the stairs and out the main foyer. “So far so good.” He huffed, turning on his heels to make his way towards the royal wing. As always, two guards were out front. He put a stagger in his step, feigning drunkness. “You two, look at you!” A scream, Rose’s scream echoed through the doors. Good, Harold had been too angry to gag her. Yet, the sound fueled him with rage, and he tried to keep himself in character. “Blimey, she’s got lungs doesn’t she? No wonder he gags her.”    
  
“Should have heard her the first night.” One, Kirshwin if James recalled, snickered. “Wanted to dig my ear drums out from the racket.”    
  
“Nah, don’t do that!” James would do it for him if he didn’t stop smirking so vilely. He needed to stay in character. He couldn’t blow this. “Come on, drink with me! Enough wine and it may sound like she’s enjoying it.”    
  
“We can’t leave our posts.” The other replied, but his eyes were on the bottles.    
  
“He isn’t coming out anytime soon, just a goblet or two. His personal vintage.” James waved the bottles. “Come on, humor me. I’m taking the cloth in a few days. Let’s celebrate like men.” He pretended to swallow a mouthful and smacked his lips.    
  
“Two, no more!” Kirshwin smirked, and the doors opened. James staggered inside, handing him the bottle as he opened the room to where the other four guards that would rotate out throughout the night were sitting, playing card. “Men, look who decided to pull the stick out of his arse!”    
  
“That’d be me!” James waved the bottles. “How about something from the King’s personal vintage, while he indulges in a different kind of pleasure, eh?!” Rose was screaming again, and he masked his jerk of rage as a stumble, grabbing their mugs and filling them up! “Doesn’t she ever shut up?”    
  
“Must be one of her favorites in there this time.” One man chuckled, as they grabbed their mugs. “Hopefully it’s that Juliza cunt, always talking down on us.”    
  
“Fucking women, am I right?” James pretended to drink from the jug, itching to grab a sword from the rack and gut them all. No wonder Harold hired them, they were as bad as he was. They would all pay after tonight, no doubt about that. James would see them all in chains. He laughed at the thought, as they all began chugging greedily. He egged them on, telling them enjoy themselves, and he smirked as by their third mugs they all began to shake their heads, stumbling from the benches. “Juliza sends her regards.” He snickered, ducking around them as they scrambled for the door. He grabbed two fallen swords and slammed the doors behind him. One he wedged through the handles, and the other he kept.    
  
James darted towards the siege tunnel doors, as Juliza’s screams and the sound of muffled whip cracks filled the air. He unlocked them, just as the pounding began, and they flew open. “Lord Tyler!” He had never been so happy to see a murderous father, thirty men, twelve snarling wolves, and Jack before in his life. “Council is on the way.”    
  
“This better not be a-“ Pete’s threat was cut off by Rose’s heart shattering scream of Juliza’s name. “Gods above. ROSE!” He shoved past him, but James grabbed his arm.    
  
“Wait! Your men and wolves need to secure the grounds. Octavian’s men should be out there already.” James didn’t flinch as two of the wolves lunged forward, teeth bared. “I know you want to burst in there now, but then it’s our word against his! Jack, stay here.”    
  
“Men, you heard the prince!” Pete was staring up towards the devastating sounds one floor up, muffled by stone walls and wood. “Now move! Meallán, Seren, heel!” Two different wolves separated from the pack, as the others joined in, coming on either side of them. Their lips were curled up, ears flat, hackles raised as their yellow eyes fixated on the noises filling James with the battle rage his men once named the Oncoming Storm.    
  
Three of Pete’s men a stayed with them, holding a small battering ram to take down the doors. Then, to James’ surprise, Martha and Mickey emerged from the tunnel both carrying swords. “Jack sent us a raven.” Martha panted. “They were already going into the tunnel when we found the safe house.” Another bloodcurdling howl echoed overhead. “Goddesses protect them.”    
  
“That’s what we’re here for.” Mickey growled. “Why aren’t we going up?”    
  
“What the hell is going on?” Grants voice echoed into the hall as the doors flung open. He looked bedraggled as the other three council members trailing behind him, flanked by Octavian who looked odd in priests robes but carrying a sword. “Was that the queen?!”    
  
“Now?” Pete growled, and James felt his rage snap.    
  
“Now!” Twirling his sword, he dashed up the stairs, his one thought to see this done. The door was locked, but Pete’s men had it crashed open in three blows. Rose’s and Juliza’s pain filled screams muffled the noises. Then they barreled through the main area to the bedroom. Meallán and Seren were at the point, growling and snarling at the blood they must smell. The bedroom door burst open, and James found himself in an unimaginable hell.    
  
Rose was bound by her hands and ankles to some sort of wooden X, sobbing, screaming herself blue in the face. She had bleeding lashes on her legs and abdomen, and she seemed oblivious to their unannounced entry. Her eyes were on the bed, where Juliza was tied, gagged, and in a pile of ripped, bloody silk. Harold was on top of her, dagger dragging along her leg, as she fought against his thrusts with everything she had.    
  
“You fucking bastard!” Pete surged into the room, and James didn’t even have to react because the enraged father tackled Harold off of the bed. Then he yowled, and James saw Harold come up snarling, holding Pete’s sword.    
  
“Holy stars...” Grants words were lost as James lunged forward, his blade thirsty for his brothers blood.    
  
They met in a flurry of blades, battling for dominance in the enclosed space. He felt the blade bite into his shoulder, but he didn’t register pain. All James could could think of was victory, and the chaos of the room didn’t even reach his ears. Harold’s furious eyes were like fuel on his boiling rage, and he wanted to see them end. Parry, dodge, stab, side step, and then blade met blade. Harold may be King, but James had the victory. He forced their joined swords around with a howl, and then Harold was on his knees.    
  
“James! Don’t!” Pete’s voice cut through the rage. “Not here! The Kingdom needs to see him for who he is.”    
  
“As you wish.” James ended Harold’s smirk by slamming the pommel of his sword into his head, and he watched in satisfaction as the demon he once called brother crumpled into a heap. Turning, he found the room only held the high council and Father Octavian, even the wolves were gone. “Where’s Rose and Juliza?”    
  
  


  
  



	34. Chapter 34

“Jack!” Rose clung to his neck, breathing in the smell of the road, the Kingswood, and campfire on his clothes as he carried her away from the room. “You came back.” She winced as her throat ached and her wounds throbbed with pain as he half ran down the stairs. A loud cry of pain told her Juliza was being carried down too. Rose couldn’t lift her head, as the long hallway spun.    
  
“Shhh, Rosie.” His lips pressed into her hair as he carried her into the inner courtyard. The sound of shouting and screaming made her jerk, and she was vaguely aware of two of her father’s banner men running down the hall towards them. “Is the castle clear?”    
  
“They’re still securing the barracks.” Rose knew that voice, and she forced her eyes back open against the pain to see Jake, who was only a year older than her, ripping off his blood stained cloak and tossing it over her. Right, she was naked. “Ianto, cover the other woman, and take up the rear.”    
  
She was confused for a moment, as her mind scrambled to piece together what was going on. Why would the castle need to be secure? The pain from her beating, her screaming, the exhaustion of fighting against her binds made everything hazy. “What’s going on?”    
  
“You’re free, Rose.” Jack’s eyes were leaking tears as he kissed her brow again. Rose flinched back, but he didn’t look offended. “Just rest.” The halls were filling with frightened staff, servants, and their children who gasped in shock as they passed. Rose felt humiliation burn through her pain, and she hid her face in his chest. They would all know now, would all be talking. Then, the world went dark for a while.    
  
When she came too, she was lying on a bed, as a vaguely familiar face swam into view, looking troubled but not scared. Rose scrambled for a name, but then the woman gave a timid smile. “Martha?” She tried to sit up, but everything hurt. Her throat felt raw, legs and abdomen were radiating fire, and her head pounded. “How?” Rose tried to remember. She had been on the X and then there was pounding. Somewhere in the middle were red and white wolves. “Meallán, Seren?” Two distinct whines came from the foot of the bed, and yellow eyes came around as cold, wet noses pressed into her arms. Her father’s alpha male and female were there, but how?    
  
“Rose, you have to lie very still.” Martha’s voice was soothing, melodic almost, as she raised a spoon to her lips. “‘M almost done with your stomach.” A needle and thread were visible in the lights of the torches and oil lamps.    
  
“No! You can’t!” Rose had to stop her. If Harold found out! The wolves growled, and Martha’s face filled with fear at the warning sound. Why were the wolves there again. “Sit.” She managed to raise one shaking hand and the growling ended. “She’s a friend.” Wasn’t she? Rose couldn’t remember why she was even there. The last thing she remembered was... “Juliza! Where’s Juliza?!”    
  
“She’s right next to you. I gave her a sleeping draught.” Martha’s hand was soft as it stroked her face. “Now lie still and let the numbing cream work.”    
  
“No...” Rose had to stop her. “Harold... you can’t he’ll... Martha please.”    
  
“Fuck that bastard.” An unfamiliar voice came with an equally unfamiliar disgusted face of a man, who handed Martha clean bandages. “He won’t touch anyone anymore. James has him chained up.”    
  
“Mickey, mind your tone. She’s the Queen.” Martha shook her head, and Rose blinked as panic fell to more confusion. Mickey was Martha’s husband, right? Why were they here? Wait, Harold was chained?    
  
“The orphans!” Rose screamed, trying to sit up, but suddenly the door opened, and a man was easing her back. Jack was gazing down at her. “Jack...” They had burst in, all fury and wolves snarling. Her father had tackled Harold, and then Harold had stood up with his sword. Jack and Mickey had untied her and Juliza, whisking them down the stairs as her father weakly ordered the wolves to stay with her. “DADDY!”    
  
“Shhh, Rosebud. I’m right here.” Her father sounded half asleep, and she turned her head despite the pounding in it. He was lying on her left, bare from the chest up, with a bandage over his ribs and another over his right bicep. Tears, real tears, stung her eyes. “Oh, no, Rosiegirl. Daddy’s fine. You’re safe. I promise. Let Martha tend to you.”    
  
If he said she was safe, then Rose believed him. Meallán jumped onto his bed, curling up on his legs, making him wince, s Mum and Tony?” She tried to relax as the pain on her skin numbed, nut the deep internal ache did not. Her father smiled with soft eyes. “How did you know?”    
  
“Jack brought your letter.” Pete winced as he reached down to stroke the white fur. Seren whined on her right, licking her arm. Rose didn’t write any letters, but she felt the slight sting of a needle and the familiar pull of thread through her skin.    
  
“I don’t understand.” Rose looked back up at Jack, who looked worried but immensely satisfied. It took her a minute to register one face was missing. “Where’s James?”    
  
“He should be in bed.” Martha huffed, and the sound of shears was followed by her smoothing a bandage over Rose’s stomach. “But he’s with the Council. They’re deciding what to do with Harold.”    
  
“He’s really chained up?” Rose couldn’t believe it. It seemed so surreal that she wondered if she was dreaming. No, she didn’t hurt in dreams. Jack brushed her hair back with a silent nod, and Rose let the tears break fully loose. “It’s over?”   
  
“Yes, Rose, it’s over.” Her father’s voice held a lethal finality, and Rose felt the relief it brought like a splash of cold water. “He’ll never hurt you or anyone ever again. I’m so, so sorry.”    
  
“Daddy, don’t.” Rose squeezed her eyes shut, as she sobbed. It was finally over, the pain, the torture, the threats. Knowing that, she opened her eyes to Martha, who was holding out a goblet. She knew that smell, and she lifted up to chug it greedily. When she woke up, it would be to a world where the monster was in a cage.    
  
James shook his head at the five wolves outside of the healer’s wing doors in a protective huddle. They lifted their heads, sniffing at him, fur rustling. “Shush you lot. I’m a friend.” They growled at him, rising up and raising hackles. “Martha! Open the damned door before I get my throat ripped out.” His shoulder was throbbing from the quick suture job without medicine she had done, and he was exhausted.    
  
It was past midnight, the Council was on their way home. Father Octavian was asleep in a guest wing, while Pete’s Banner men and the handfuls of his own father’s old guard took shifts guarding the castle. Helena had taken care of herding the castle inhabitants to the banquet hall, where James had given a brief explanation as to what had happened and sent them back to bed. There had been too many little ears in the room for details. Those would come later, at the trial. For now, Harold was chained and gagged in a cell, guarded by two men, named Jake and Ianto, as well as the other five wolves.    
  
James had sent a raven to his grandfather and Aunt, explaining in short words that Harold had been caught abusing Rose and a handmaiden, and he had been arrested. He also Jackie and Tony were tucked away on the borders of their lands, asking them to bring them to the Noble Manor, until the Powell Estate was deemed safe. Then he had personally pulled aside Rose’s handmaidens, and told them that they were free. There had been many hugs and tears. Now all he wanted to do was see Rose and Juliza, and have Martha numb his shoulder.    
  
The door opened, and he blinked in surprise as Pete stood there, looking much better than he had five hours before. “Heya, down.” The wolves instantly relaxed. “He is a friend.” James arched an eyebrow as he extended a hand, but he shook it, and five tails began to wag. “Sorry, I told them to guard and fell asleep. They’ll let you pass now.” He stepped back, and James came inside.    
  
Most of the torches and oil lamps had been extinguished, and the room was silent. Martha was untangling herself from Mickey, who was out cold, rubbing her eyes as she yawned. She waved him over to a cot, but James had to stop at the foot of one bed. Rose was sleeping, probably from one of Martha’s wonderful sleeping draughts, covered in a pretty pink night dress, a warm blanket, and a red wolf curled up at her feet. He knew Martha must have braved the torture chamber of a bedroom to fetch it, and he loved her for it. Juliza was wearing a blue one, covered like Rose, and also sleeping. His heart ached for them both.    
  
“She didn’t write the letters did she?” Pete murmured, wincing as he leaned down to pet the wolf. The red tag thumped twice before stilling.    
  
“No, Juliza did, convinced her to sign them and seal them.” James knew it had been a deceptive move, but it worked. “I begged her to talk, but he was threatening everybody she loved. Rose wouldn’t risk any of you.”    
  
“She hasn’t called me Daddy since the night you proposed to her.” Pete’s voice sounded rough with emotions, and James couldn’t blame the man. He had just seen his daughter being tortured by a man he trusted, counted as a son. “She said it twice tonight, and all I could see was that the little girl in braids getting yelled out for playing with the wolf pups in her new dress was gone. How did I miss it? I was here, James. We were right here, and we didn’t even know.”    
  
“If I didn’t suspect him already.” James rubbed the man’s back with his good arm, trying to assure him it wasn’t his fault. “I wouldn’t have known either. She hid it so well, sometimes it’s almost like she believed her own lies.”    
  
“Who’s guarding him?” Pete wiped his face roughly.    
  
“Jake and Ianto.” James patted his back lightly. “Leave him alive, and don’t hurt yourself worse. That’s an order, Lord Tyler.”    
  
“Busting These sutures would be worth it.” Pete growled, but then he turned those angry, mournful eyes on him. “Stay with her, until I get back.”    
  
“I’ll stay as long as she let’s me.” James wouldn’t force his company on her. He knew the conversation at dinner had probably broken the fragile trust they had been building, but hopefully the fact that she was free would build it stronger. He didn’t dare hope for her love, knowing that the things she had experienced would have broken many others ling before.    
  
“Stop mooning over her and come here.” Martha sighed, and James forced himself away to sit on a cot. Carefully he pulled his shirt off, so she could peel the bandage away and really look at it. “It’s shallow, just keep it clean, and use this for a few days.” She began slathering a tingling cream over it, and James knew from her prior treatments, the cut would be numb. “And you need to rest. Don’t make me knock you out like I did Juliza and some of the wounded men earlier.”    
  
“Where’s the other healers?” With Rose here, they should be swarming her. It wasn’t like them to be so absent.    
  
“Their leader Patrick didn’t like havin’ me in here, so Jack told them to get lost. One nurse stayed awhile, but when she saw how bad it was, she couldn’t stomach it.” Martha shrugged, applying a clean bandage. “Take Pete’s cot, Jack went to go check on the men, and then he said he’ll post up with the wolves outside.” Then she poured some pain relieving syrup into a cup, and he tossed it back. It’d make him sleepy, but wouldn’t knock him out like what she had given the women.   
  
“Thank you, Martha.” James hugged her with his good arm, kissing her hair. “For coming. I don’t know if I can ever trust anyone else to take care of them.” She squeezed him tightly before wriggling free and pushing him towards the cot that had a white wolf curled up at the end.    
  
“It’s what family does.” James offered her a brotherly smile, as the wolf lifted its head to sniff his hand. He must have smelled Pete on him, because he tucked it under his tail again and sighed. “Now bed, Your Royal Highness. No fussing about it. You look half dead.”    
  
He nodded, lowering himself onto the cot, and he pulled the blanket up to just below his ribs. The wolf made a chuffing noise, shifting as James wriggled his feet under its hulking weight, but then it settled back down. “Which one is this again?” He asked Martha, as she had spent more time with them over the last few hours.    
  
“Meallán. The one with Rose is Seren. Pete says they were her favorites before she came here.” Martha was snuggling back into the small cot with Mickey, who mumbled incoherently and wrapped her in his arms. “Now sleep.” James turned his head so he was facing Rose’s relaxed face, and he watched her until his own eyes drifted shut.    
  
Rose felt like she had slept forever. She was hot, sore all over, but felt strangely safe. Why should she feel safe? Her obviously medicated mind floundered for an answer, until a wet nose and furry muzzle shifted under her chin. Blinking the blur of sleep away, she lifted her head to find Seren watching her with worried eyes. Then she remembered, and she plunged her fingers into the fur on her head. “Daddy?” Rose turned her head in the early morning light, expecting to find her father where he had been. Instead, she saw the face that had caused her so much confusion the last few weeks, but his bed companion made her gasp.    
  
James was softly snoring, laying on his side, with Meallán tucked under his legs and his muzzle buried in his arm. The one draped over the hulking white wolf had a bandage on the shoulder, and Rose wondered how he had gotten it. Had he fought Harold? Had he wounded him? Obviously he had won. Harold was chained, and the memory caused her to whimper in relief. “James.” She croaked, groaning as Seren shifted her weight and accidentally pressed on her wounds. “James.”    
  
Unfocused blue eyes blinked open. “Rose... you’re awake.” He froze, lifting his arm from Meallán’s back, looking properly confused, but then shrugged and wrapped it back around the wolf. Somewhere from her childhood memories, she remembered her father saying wolves only slept when they were safe. James was someone safe? Wasn’t he? Her mind rebelled against the thought, summoning Harold’s half truths. She shuddered, whining as the movement hurt. “I’m sorry it took so long.”    
  
“Don’t, James.” Rose couldn’t handle any apologies right now. She just needed to know everyone was okay. “Did anyone...” she let her trembling voice trail off.    
  
“Only a few of Harold’s men.” James yawned, offering her what she thought might be a comforting smile, but she couldn’t remember what one looked like, really looked like, anymore. “The orphanage was guarded. Your mum and Tony will be with Grandad and Aunt Sylvia soon. It’s over.”    
  
Physically it was, but Rose could still hear Harold, feel him inside of her mind. “I hurt so much.” Finally she could tell someone besides Juliza, and the realization made the pain so much more intense. She didn’t have to hide it anymore. She had to tell him, tell someone. She had to let it go. One confession seemed so important, more than any others. The truth needed to be revealed, so it could rest in peace. “James, I... he made me kill Sarah Jane. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I loved her, and he-“    
  
“I know.” James unwound himself from Meallán as he cut her off, staggering to kneel by her bed as the wolf complained loudly. His hand extended, and reflexes took over, coiling her away. “Juliza told me everything.” Of course she had, but Rose wasn’t angry. “And I don’t need to forgive you, because it wasn’t your fault. You have to let the guilt go. None of this was your fault.”    
  
“I just want to forget.” Rose knew it was impossible, but she did. She just wanted to go back to a time when the scariest thing was ghost stories around the fire. “Wake Martha, please.”    
  
“She’s already waking up.” James sighed, as he swallowed visibly. “Want me to go get your father?” Rose managed to nod, and he let out a breath. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and I just need you to remember that this is not your fault.” She watched through the pain and tears as he stood slowly, and left the room.    
  
Martha took his place, helping her up to relieve herself and then sit carefully was she checked the sutures. Then she hobbled back into the room, where Mickey had changed out the sheets and was easing Juliza up for a drink of water. Rose held her friend’s gaze, watching as she smiled at her. “I’ll be fine, Rose.” Juliza coughed, as Martha helped her to her feet. “You taught me how to be strong.”    
  
Rose didn’t understand how, when she had always felt so weak, but she didn’t have long to consider it. Her father came in the room, and with one look at her, he collapsed onto the cot and held out his arms. Rose shifted into them, snuggling deep into the smell and feel of days when the world was kind and loving. Then she drank deeply from the goblet Mickey offered her, before burying her nose in her father’s chest. “Did you hurt him, Daddy?”    
  
“Yes.” Pete whispered, as he stroked her hair. “I hurt him a lot. Now, go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”    
  
“Love you too.” With that, Rose closed her eyes and let her father’s embrace keep all of the nightmares away.

 


	35. Chapter 35

Harold’s trial was on the third day after Rose’s chains had been broken. Everyone told her she didn’t have to go, that there were more than enough witnesses of that night to sentence him to a life in prison, or death if her father got his way. They wanted her to stay in bed, to rest, to finally give her body a chance to heal for the first time in months. She refused, because she had a duty. Rose was still queen, and a queen had to be there for her people. Although, she now questioned her validity as monarch. The King was in custody, and there were no heirs or possibility of ones that would solidify the throne. She knew, by now, that the word of what had occurred was spreading across the kingdom faster than a plague.    
  
The marriage itself had been a sham, a lie, as neither she nor Harold had kept their vows. He had defiled her and others, and she had tried to kill him. She knew the only person with a real claim to the crown was James, but he had made no comment about taking it. In fact, though he checked in on her constantly, their conversations had been focused mostly on the way the castle was being run, how the Council was handling things, and on the trial.    
  
He did yield to any requests she made, such as appointing Jack head of the guard and offering the old ones their jobs back. Most took the offer with pride. When Rose asked him to send her handmaidens in, the ones who had been brutalized, he had ordered everyone from the room, including himself. Then Rose had done all she could to help them. She asked who wanted to leave, and of course all but Juliza did. She had written out and sealed letters to present to their families and any potential future suitors that they were to be considered as pure as any other virgin. Then she had written orders for the castle to pay triple their dowries, should any choose to wed in the future and to release them from their service with double their annual pay as severance. It wouldn’t heal their minds and hearts, but it gave them an opportunity for a fresh start.    
  
As for Juliza, who had been a constant friend and treasure, Rose offered her a spot on the council. She declined, saying she wasn’t much for politics, and asked instead if she could take up the position as head of household affairs, since she and Rose had been doing it in Sarah Jane’s stead. Rose had agreed without reservation.    
  
So, against the many objections of everyone who genuinely cared, Rose had forced herself out of her sickbed at dawn, took only the smallest amount of pain relieving tonic to ease her bone deep aches, and requested a bath be drawn in her old room. She had washed herself completely alone, a first since her wedding, taking time to fully examine the evidence of the horrors that plagued her mind. Juliza had always done her best to shield her from fully looking, but she needed to see. Yet, standing in front of a mirror was too much, and she turned away from it when breathing became difficult. Then she stepped into an imposing black and red dress, one that fastened in the front, so she didn’t need assistance. She left her hair down, applying only enough makeup to mask her pain paled face, and then settled a red and black crown on her head.    
  
When she emerged into the foyer, as the progress down the stairs had been slow, Rose was a bit surprised to find an entourage waiting. James and Jack were in full uniform, flanking her father who was also dressed in black, four guards that were fully armored, and Meallán and Seren sitting proudly with their coats brushed to perfection. “Your Grace.” James bowed at the waist, and the other men mimicked him. “If you are ready.” His crystalline gaze was full of grief, anger, and soft concern.    
  
“As I will ever be.” Rose felt strangely detached as the doors opened, and she walked down the steps to Kalliope. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, her mind a jumble, and she was too lost in the angry, dark, terrified thoughts to flinch as James bent down just enough to help her mount. Jack pulled his mount to her right, as appropriate for head of her guard. James was on her left, looking as blank faced as she felt, and her father and guards brought up the rear. Rose nudged Kalliope into motion, her eyes locked on the portcullis and the streets beyond. Riding hurt, but she adamantly refused to show it.    
  
Nobody with her spoke, thankfully, as they entered the city, but the crowds were lining the streets, and their grim looks only made the crisp autumn morning more cold. Rose tried not to think about what was going through their minds as they looked at her. She hadn’t asked how much had been told, but she could feel them examining her in a new light. She didn’t want to know what type of light, and she swallowed hard as they began to follow her to the town square. This had been Rose’s insistence, publicly displaying Harold for what he was.    
  
The platform that was usually used for festival shows or public decrees had a larger crowd around it, and there, in the center, was Harold. He was on his knees, shackled with a sack over his head. Even from the distance, Rose could see the bruises, cuts, and wolf bites on his skin. Her father had been right, he had hurt him. Part of the guard, her father’s bannermen, and the wolves were standing watch, keeping the people back. At the head of the platform was a large wooden chair, and it was surrounded by the high council and Father Octavian. Interspersed throughout the crowd, Rose caught sight of her handmaidens, even the ones she dismissed. This was it, and there was no going back.    
  
Rose reached the stairs, and Jake extended a hand, easing her slowly from the saddle so as not to aggravate her wounds. When he offered his arm to help her up the platform,she waved him away. She didn’t need help right now. She needed to be strong. Without speaking, Rose strode past Harold’s shivering body, not looking at him as she approached the chair, the makeshift throne, and the waiting men bowed. Rose gestured them to rise, as she turned to face the crowd. James was standing with her father, his coronet gleaming in the prenoon light, and he gave her a curt nod.    
  
“Guards, unhood the prisoner.” Rose spoke firmly, forcing her voice to carry, and she forced her fingers to stay relaxed as Ianto came forward and yanked Harold’s hood off. Those cold, possessive eyes were bruised as they bore up into hers, and Rose had to fight from recoiling at the promise of unimaginable pain in them. “Lord Grant, read the charges.” She refused to look away from him, as Grant came forward.    
  
“Harold Peter Edward Saxon, you are hereby charged with rape of Her Majesty Queen Rose Marion Tyler Saxon and of her handmaiden Juliza Tinuviel Triggs. You are charged with imprisonment of Her Majesty Queen Rose Marion Tyler Saxon and of her handmaiden Juliza Tinuviel Triggs. You are charged with assault and battery of Her Majesty Queen Rose Marion Tyler Saxon and of her handmaiden Juliza Tinuviel Triggs.” These charges were only named, Rose knew, because the council had witnessed them. She knew that there had been so many others, but these charges alone were considered treasonous. Harold’s sneer grew with each passing charge. “You are charged with the enslavement of Her Majesty Queen Rose Marion Tyler Saxon. You are charged with the torture of her Majesty Queen Rose Marion Tyler Saxon and her handmaiden Juliza Tinuviel Triggs.” Grant rolled the parchment with the agreed upon accusations, the only ones she knew would be spoken again, and Harold cleared his throat. “How do you plead?”   
  
“Not guilty.” The crowd around them began to murmur, shuffling around, as Harold stared directly up at her, so confident that he would win. No, this time Rose would win. She felt her blood running cold, months of abuse telling her to pretend he wasn’t guilty, to save those she loved. Yet, the injuries to him along with the way he was tied and bound, chased it away.    
  
Rose drew a deep breath. “Two nights passed, Harold, every man on this platform saw you. They saw me bound and tied, beaten, cut, tortured, and collared. They saw Juliza, bound, gagged, and cut as you defiled her. Yet you deny your guilt.” She couldn’t believe he honestly thought he was going to get away with it. “Does anyone present deny the claims?”    
  
“I do!” Rose looked as a man stepped out of the crowd, and she recognized him as one of the men who’s wife he’d rescued. “You can’t rape your wife!” His voice carried out, and Harold chuckled darkly. Rose spun on the man, approaching the edge of the platform as she let her anger and disgust break across her face. “And besides, you said yourself the king would never abuse his wife.”    
  
“Wrong.” Rose let her voice carry, as the man smirked up at her in smug satisfaction. “I asked if you thought the King was the kind of man who would abuse his wife. Whatever conclusion you drew was your own assumption.” It was her turn to smirk as she spun, leaving him standing there fumbling for a retort. “Now, does anyone else refute these claims?” She retook her place by the temporary throne, still refusing to sit though she ached to. She saw James from the corner of her eye, jaw clenched, and knew he was memorizing the denier’s face.    
  
The crowd was whispering again, as they began to understand that this was really happening, and Rose raised one hand, ignoring the throbbing in her cuts as she silenced them. “Lord Grant, call the witnesses.” Now she sat, but kept her posture upright and defiant as Harold shivered in front of her. Rose was glad it was cold, that he was finally feeling just a smidgeon of the pain he had called. She didn’t need to listen to the witness testimonies, as she knew that none of them would speak untruths.    
  
Her father went first, and his calm demeanor gave way to rage as his wove his story. The wolves around the platform began to become agitated at his fury, but Rose whistled two shrill bursts and they calmed. James went next, and Rose could see the barely contained fire burning in him as he recounted the times he’d seen her wounds, how he had tried to prove it was Harold, and then finally the horrors they had intervened to stop. With each passing testimony, Harold’s gaze grew more and more lethal, but Rose refused to back down, refused to break eye contact expect reflexive blinks. She kept her chin up, letting him see the absolute abhorrence for him she felt. When the final testimony of Father Octavian was over, Rose had developed a plan, a true plan, and she hoped that it would work to show the people.    
  
Rose stood up walking to stand beside Harold but not looking at him. “The charges brought today are all we can prove, but throughout many of the tortures and abuse I endured, Harold enjoyed bragging about his conquests. Whether it be poisoning his father.” The crowd gasped, and she knew that she had their full attention. Not looking at any of their faces directly, she began walking away from him to the edge. She could feel James’ eyes burning into her, and she drew a breath. “To the rape of many women present in this crowd. He gave vivid details, explaining exactly how he kept them silent. I want you all to see, that this monster is no longer to be feared. So now I ask, if you can, any woman present that he defiled, abused, or threatened to step forward. Stand with me, and don’t be afraid.” Then, she reached down and rolled up her sleeves, showing her freshest bruises, the healed scars, and the evidence that could be shown in public. Once they were bared, she extended them out above the steps.    
  
Her heart pounded, as the crowd stared at her in stunned silence. She wondered if it would work, or if the other women were too afraid. Rose was, deep inside she was terrified that she would wake up and this would be a dream. Then, Juliza stepped forward, her face determined as she approached the steps. Katarina and Feora followed after her, taking either of Juliza’s hands. Then the crowd started shifting as one by one women her age and a few years older began to weave their way forward, crying as they joined the group of women below her. To Rose’s horror and astonishment, even Lucy, the girl Harold had been considering courting before James was captured came forward. There were seventeen in all, and Rose beckoned them up the platform.    
  
“Citizens of Gallifrey, when I was crowned Queen, I swore to govern with wisdom and mercy.” Rose called out, feeling confident as she strode forward. She knew the women were behind her, and when she reached the makeshift throne, she turned, beckoning them to stand beside her. They fanned out, creating a half ring of joined hands and tear filled faces around Harold. He wasn’t smirking now. No, he looked furious and afraid. “And I have tried.” She stared down at Harold, as slowly pieces she had missed fell into place. “Harold, you once swore never to lie, though you were adept at half truths. I ask you now, did you hire someone to drug Prince James during the war with Skaro? Did you poison King Rassilon? Did you order the death of every woman you impregnated as well as their children?”     
  
Harold jerked at his chains, his busted and scabbed lips pulling back in a snarl. “You call me false! You have no claim to that crown except for our wedding vows!” From the corner of her eye she saw James tense in understanding and Jack flash him an ‘I Told you so’ look. “Smirk all you want, Blossom, because I’ll always be inside of you! You’ll never be rid of me! All of you cunts, are mine!” The crowd erupted into chaos, and Rose felt the women around her flinched back at his roar.    
  
“Silence!” James bellow echoed through the pandemonium, as the crowd shrank back. Rose flinched, out of instinct, but it didn’t scare her. She knew that tone was strictly to maintain order, and that his sword would never be drawn unless necessary.    
  
“As Queen, I have authority to pass sentence on you, Harold, but wisdom tells me that this choice isn’t mine alone.” Rose looked at the women around her, the other victims of his atrocities, and she knew there were so many others out there. She did this for all of them, not just herself. She had fought this battle alone for what seemed an eternity, but she hadn’t been alone, not really. These women had simply been waiting for someone to help them realize that too. “So I ask these women, these citizens of Gallifrey, your daughters, sisters, nieces, and future wives, how do you find him, guilty or not guilty?”    
  
Rose didn’t need to hold her breath as Juliza cried out. “Guilty!” Followed by Feora’s tear filled voice echoing the same. Fifteen other voices repeated the same verdict, and Rose watched as Harold realized that it was over, that his reign of terror was finally toppled, all by the women he had found so weak.    
  
“Harold Peter Edward Saxon, you are herby found guilty of all charges.” Rose spoke the words with a confidence she hadn’t ever known she possessed, and with a blaze of triumph that outshone all of her other victories, she added. “I wanted to see you tortured, to see you tied to a whipping post and made to pay for every hurt you had caused, but I refuse to allow your sick soul to tarnish anymore souls.” She looked up at James, who was watching here with a look of something between inquisitiveness and pride, to her father who was staring at Harold with a hand on his sword, to Jack, who was smiling in satisfaction at the chained Harold, and finally to Father Octavian, who nodded and reached into his robes. Then, she looked back at Harold, refusing to back down from her decision. “I herby sentence you to death, by beheading, to be carried out immediately.”    
  
Ianto strode forward, covering Harolds head as the demon began screaming his rage, vile names, slurs, and fighting for all he was worth. Rose waved the girls away, as Octavian stepped forward and made the sign of the gods she no longer gave thought to over Harold, splashing water from a meal decanter over his hood. Then three masked guards carried up the executioners block, shoving Harold down onto it, locking the heavy wood over his shoulders to keep him in place.    
  
Rose stayed standing, refusing to let herself be weakened or sickened by the sight of the executioner mounting the stairs, his axe gleaming in the sunlight. He wore a black leather hood, and she didn’t know who it was. A guard, it always was, and it was always random, anonymous as death always should be. Harold was still screaming, still calling out everything he could, but Rose refused to comprehend his words. The axe went up, and then it swooped down with a swoosh and thud of finality as Harold’s head left his shoulders. As she watched the blood coat the wooden planks, she finally sat. Rose closed her eyes, holding back tears of relief that he would never have another victim, and she didn’t pay any attention to Octavian who murmured a prayer of forgiveness over her and washed her hands because gods weren’t real. He would do the same to the executioner as well, but she didn’t look, she didn’t watch, she just forced herself to breathe.    
  
“Your Grace.” Jack’s hand touched her shoulder, and Rose looked up at his concerned face. “It’s over. His body is gone. Come with us.” She nodded, taking his hand as he pulled her to her feet, and she let him and James escort her through the crowd to Kalliope. Rose maintained her composure until the portcullis lowered behind them, and then she let the tears break free.    
  
James had forced himself to remain as passive as possible throughout the trial. He knew if he lost his temper, his composure, then he would have triggered Rose into the same. With the testimonies, the other women finally speaking out, he had never felt such repulsion and hatred for a single human in his life. Yes, Harold was his brother. Yes, he had once loved him, still did in the smallest, almost invisible part of his soul, but he didn’t interject with the sentencing. He didn’t look away. Rose had handled everything far better than anyone expected, given her tendency over the last few days to disappear in on herself.    
  
He was proud of her, of how she had spoken with such passion, turned to the people, leading them to understand that this was a long time coming and justified. Rose was indeed a Queen, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that starry eyed young woman so beautiful and vibrant was still living somewhere inside of her. When she started crying, silently, her tears rivulets of stars down her cheeks, James wanted nothing more than to soothe her, to tell her it would be okay. He didn’t, just looking over at her Father, at Jack.    
  
James knew they were thinking the same thing he was. Harold may be dead, but his torture was far from over. Rose had battled to survive for so long, alone, with nobody but Juliza to lean on, and like all soldiers, the battle would still be there in her mind. He still dreamed of his first skirmish, even ten years later. He still woke up sweating, thinking he was in a Skaro prison camp about to be tortured. He still could hear the sound of the men he killed in Skaro screaming in agony some nights. Yet he knew Rose wouldn’t seek out help. He doubted she knew how anymore.    
  
There was one thing he could do, and as they dismounted, he turned to Pete and Jack. “Get her back to Martha. She needs to rest and have her bandages changed.” Rose wasn’t speaking or looking at anyone as one of his father’s old guards helped her dismount and escorted her up the stairs. Both men didn’t hesitate, hurrying forward.    
  
James angled Donar towards rhe stables, dismounting as he arrived and headed to the gardeners shed. There he got an axe and ordered some men to bring one of the trash carts with a horse to the Royal tower, and to leave it there. Then he trudged into the castle, ignoring the odd looks at his took, and headed to the room that had been Rose’s prison. Ripping off his uniform coat, tossing his crown aside, he opened the windows wide, and let his rage out on the contents of the rooms there. Piece by piece, from the desk in the office to the frame of the bed, James cut Harold’s hold on the castle into ruins, tossing them out of the window to the ground below.    
  
  
  
  
  


 


	36. Chapter 36

Rose wasn’t technically hiding, not really. She just needed to not be fussed over for a while. She had never enjoyed it before, and now it made her feel weak and vulnerable. Everything but basic functions for the castle had been shut down anyways, and not even the High Council was present. So she had changed into one of her more plain dresses, gone to the kitchen for some lunch and tea, as Martha advised against wine to avoid interacting with the pain medicine, and went to the private library. It was one of the few places that Harold’s memory didn’t taint.    
  
She just needed some time to herself, to cope with the events of the morning, and to try to figure out what to do next. Rose honestly didn’t know what would come in the following days. Her father needed to return home in time to get her mum and Tony back before the snows came down from the north, and she knew if she asked he would take her away. Yet, she still had so much to do here. There was the orphanage, the handmaidens who needed their trips home arranged, the citizens of the town who would be watching with bated breath to see what would happen. Not to mention she still had to notify their allied countries of the truth. For now, she was still Queen, and she wouldn’t start abandoning her duties now. She had been born to wear the crown, and it was all she had ever prepared for. Her future rested in the hands of the High Council and James.    
  
James was a whole conundrum in and of himself. He was the man who saved her from the river, who had plotted her rescue, and Harold’s downfall. He loved her, that she knew. She could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. Yet, he confused her. Rose had good memories, when she focused on them really hard. There were stolen embraces, tender kisses in quiet corridors, and a blissful night in his arms on her sixteenth birthday. Yet, there was also the doubt Harold had cast into her mind, and they recalled an outburst in a shed, bruising on her arms, and the insult he had hurled the first time they met.    
  
She had killed his foster mother, though he said that wasn’t her fault. She had stupidly fallen in love with his brother, which had created this entire mess. Yet everyone swore he didn’t hold any of that against her. Rose didn’t understand. Her mind couldn’t comprehend how he could still be able to love, after losing so much. She didn’t think she could. There was a hole in her gut, and it ached so fiercely that she had to tuck her knees into her chest as she stared at the flames in the fireplace. She had tried closing her eyes, but Harold was there, promising her that she would feel him forever. She just wanted him gone. “He’s dead. He isn’t ever coming back.” She mumbled to herself, hoping the spoken words would chase the ghost away. “You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe.” She had been repeating the words all afternoon, as she kept the fire going. It was nearly sunset now, and they hadn’t worked.    
  
“Rose.” James’ voice, spoken so softly, startled her, and Rose turned on her cushion to find him standing beside a shelf, sweaty, red faces, with his uniform crumpled and dusty. “Thought you might be here.”    
  
“I’m not hiding.” Rose knew she didn’t need to defend her actions, that she didn’t answer to him. The words had come out of habit. “I just needed to think.” He wiped his brow, and she didn’t understand why his palms were raw and blistered, why the knuckles were bloody and scraped. “Have you been fighting?” She moved to stand, wondering if she had missed something horrible in her time alone   
  
“Yes.” James hard a strange look on his face, and Rose didn’t understand it. “But not someone alive.” Those eyes that she had once thought so identical to Harold’s darted over her face. Now, after so much hate in the brother’s, Rose could see they were different. They held something Harold’s never could, sadness and love. “I have something to show you. Will you walk with me, outside?”    
  
“It’s almost dark.” Rose glanced out of the window, but then again, she’d been alone with James in the dark before. He wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’t make advances, of that she was absolutely certain. That much she could trust. “Show me.”    
  
The castle was silent, as James led her without touching her out of the library, where he retrieved her cloak from a bench in the inner courtyard. As they walked in silence, arms length apart, through the corridors, Rose’s mind began to register things were missing. She couldn’t quite place what though. It’s just that spaces of walls and floor were blank that shouldn’t be. She brooded on what it was that was gone, but found no explanation. As they passed through the foyer, James grabbed a torch from a brazier, but he didn’t answer her inquisitive look. She did note that the throne room doors were open, but she didn’t look inside. She simply followed James down the hallway to the doors that led to the stables.    
  
Rose’s heart pounded as the cold wind whipped around them, and she wondered where he was going as he turned away from the stables towards the open grounds near the back wall. Then, up ahead in the growing twilight, she saw a massive pile of debris. The wind brought the smell of torch oil to her, as they drew closer. When she saw what was waiting, she stumbled to a stop. It wasn’t just a pile of debris, it was everything Harold owned.    
  
Rose covered her mouth with her hands as she looked at the pile, her eyes taking in the destroyed bed and the sliced mattress. The torture equipment was in ruins, broken and hacked apart, covered in robes and clothes, and portraits. All of the trophies he had ever hunted and stuffed where demolished, scattered over the pile, and to her absolute shock, the throne was busted into pieces and tossed in as well. “You did this?” She whispered, unsure whether to cry of thank him. As she looked at him, she saw an axe nearby. His hands, oh he had been fighting. He had been fighting against Harold’s memories.    
  
“I did.” James nodded, and he held out the torch. “But this honor belongs to you, Rose.” She stared at the flame, and without hesitation, yanked it from his hand and hurled it onto the fire. It caught the oil, sending flames rushing around it. Rose couldn’t stop herself, as a manic laugh bubbled out of her. It was burning! It was all burning! “I thought.” James had bent down to lift something from the ground. “You’d want to add these yourself.”    
  
Rose blinked at what he was holding. She knew that box, loathed that box, hated everything it stood for. It was the box with her collars, and draped across the lid was the necklace she had given Harold before he went to war. “Are they all in there?” She knew before he nodded that they would be. She knew that everything that had belonged to Harold besides herself was in the ever growing fire. The flames reflected off the charm, and Rose grabbed it. “Burn!” She screamed, hurling it into the fire. Then she grabbed the box, opening it, rage more fierce than the flames bursting inside of her. She yanked a handful out, throwing them into the fire as well, howling her pain and anguish as they disappeared into the pile. She did it again, until they all were gone, and then she snatched the box and threw it with both hands. “Never again!” She didn’t care what anyone thought, this felt good, more liberating than watching his head hit the wood. “You’ll never hurt anyone again! Do you hear me?! You’re dead!”    
  
“Let it out, Rose Tyler!” James encouraged her, and Rose screamed again. It didn’t matter that it hurt her head or made her stitched thighs and stomach throb. She’d kept it inside too long. She became vaguely aware of men calling her name and pounding feet, but James handled it. “The Queen is fine! Let her be!”    
  
“Go away!” Rose howled, feeling tears, so many tears she had suppressed for months. “Burn! Fucking burn you monster! You’re never coming back!” The tears blurred her eyes, and Rose wiped them fiercely to clear her sight. She wanted to watch it all turn to ash. She needed it to. The diamond ring sparkled on her hand, the one that once meant love but Harold had tainted, and she wrenched it off. Then she paused, as James made a noise beside her. She looked up at him, holding it in her palm. It had been his first, his mother’s. “James...” she croaked, trying to give it back to him.    
  
“Do it.” His face was confident as he whispered. “Do it Rose. Get rid of everything he used against you. Burn it all!”    
  
“Bastard!” Rose hurled it hard into the fire, and as it disappeared into the flames the world spun. “I hate you! I hate you! You ruined everything! You defiled everything! Fucking die!” She gasped in, choking on her tears and the acrid smoke filling the air. She wanted it all to burn, to end. Pain flared in her legs and she stumbled. The ground didn’t greet her, but strong arms caught her elbows. “I hate him!” She screamed, as James held her upright.    
  
“I know.” He was crying too. Why? Why was he crying? He had seen one night of it. Rose had seen months. “You cry, my precious girl. Cry! Scream! Just let it out!”    
  
“He destroyed everything!” Rose shrieked, balling her hands into fists. There was so much hurt, so much rage. It was burning her up inside. She needed to release it. “I hate him! Do you hear that, you demon! I hate you, and you can’t beat me for it anymore!” She shoved at James, needing to move, to pace, to let it all out. His fingers loosened, and as Rose yanked away to scream at the flames, her legs buckled. This time the ground met her knees, but James was beside her, supporting her by her ribs. She didn’t flinch, she lashed out, blinded by her tears, pounding her the sides fists into his chest. “I hate him!”    
  
James didn’t care that Rose was hitting him. It didn’t hurt, just solid thumps of her petite fists against his shirt. She was a mess, face red, twisted in pain, in rage, as she screamed it all out. Yet, she was still beautiful. He had expected a reaction like this, but the raw intensity of it was heartbreaking. He was touching her, and she wasn’t pulling away. “Good! Don’t stop!” He crooned to her. He wouldn’t let her stop until it was all out.    
  
James didn’t try to pull her in, thought it was instinct to want to cradle her in his arms, to kiss away her tears. He wouldn’t force it onto her, his love. He just held her upright, supporting her body as she shouted months of suppressed anguish into the night. Jack and Pete had come running of course, but left when they saw what was going on. They knew she needed this too. Her fists were still pounding into him, but she wasn’t screaming at him to let her go. “I’ve got you, Rose. Just let it all go.”    
  
“You hurt me! You beat me and raped me! You made me do horrible things!” Rose’s words were wonderful, even as they cracked from the emotions behind them. Finally, finally, she was acting on them. This was better than the blank subservient looks James had seen, the dead notes in her voice, and the forced smiles. This was Rose, in all her true glory. “But you couldn’t break me! I’m a wolf, and wolves don’t break! We fight!”    
  
“That’s right, Rose. You’re strong! You beat him!” James didn’t care that he was crying too. There was no shame in his tears. They flowed because Harold had nearly ruined it all, had almost won. The pounding had stopped against his chest, but he refused to let her fall further down. “You’re free.”    
  
“He made me kill her.” Rose looked up at him, her eyes puffy, red ringed, as she clutched at his shirt. “He made me kill her, and you should hate me.” James heart ached at the grief in her voice. “Why don’t you hate me?!”    
  
“Because he killed her Rose, not you. You were just the weapon.” Stars above how he wanted to hold her, to squeeze her so tightly she’d never feel Harold’s touch on her again. “I will never hate you. I love you.”    
  
“No!” Rose beat his chest twice more, not hard in her emotion and pain weakened state. “Love is stupid! I loved him and he ruined it!” Of course she had, James had known she would. Harold’s mask of charm and charisma would have lured her in. “He ruined me!” Her head snapped back to the flames, and for one horrible moment he was afraid she’d jump into them, but she didn’t. “I hate you Harold! I hate what you made me into! Get out of my head!” With that final shout, Rose slumped from her knees to her bottom, and she covered her face as she sobbed.    
  
“Come here.” He didn’t pull her, wouldn’t force her, but the sobs now weren’t of rage. James knew they were nothing but pain. Rose shook her head, but still didn’t pull away. So he just held her up, until she leaned further and further down, her whole body shaking. Then her head was on his knees, as she fisted his filthy trousers in her fingers. He tested a soft brush of her hair, choking out his own sob as the silky strands moved under his fingers.    
  
Rose pushed his hand away, and so he let her lay there, until her broken gasps grew silent, and her fingers loosened. The fire was still burning strong, but her haunted eyes were closed. As gently as he could, James lifted her into his arms and carried her across the dark grounds. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and it struck him for some reason then that she was barely three months past eighteen. It had been easy to forget when she was awake, when she put up her act for the world, when she hid behind corsets and makeup, behind the proud looks and sharp words.    
  
Queen she may be, but Rose had been forced to grow up too fast. James hated Harold for that, for stealing the bright eyed innocence that she had once wore more brilliantly than any dress or tiara. He hated Davros for it too, for attacking his father, for starting a war that stole James away from her.  “I should have protected you.” He sighed, forcing his tears aside as she whimpered in his arms. “I don’t blame you for hating me.” Holding her closely, James tried to memorize the feel of her in his arms. He couldn’t help but think this would be the last time he felt it, as he carried her up past the destroyed doors, past his own room, past the now stripped and bare Harold’s room, to her own. There he carried her inside, lowering her to the sheets, removing her cloak, and tucking her in. Swallowing, he turned to leave.    
  
“James.” Rose’s hoarse whisper made him stop. “I don’t hate you.” He looked back at her, but her eyes were still shut, though she’d rolled onto her side. “You saved me.” Then her eyes fluttered half open, as she drew a shaky breath. “‘M sorry.” They drifted shut again as her face went lax. James savored one last look, before slipping out of the door. What was she sorry for? All she had done was protect those she loved.    
  
  


 


	37. Chapter 37

“No, I renounce my claim.” James stared ignored the High Council, choosing only to look at the beautiful woman across the table who didn’t look the least bit surprised. Rose’s hands froze from where they were reaching up to remove the emerald adorned crown from her hair. He snatched off his own coronet, tossing it onto the table. “The law is antiquated and ridiculous. Rose has more than proven she deserves to remain queen.”    
  
A week, a bloody week, that was how long the Council waited before bringing up the stupid law. Rose was just opening up to him, just starting to fully look him in the eye, to not look away when he smiled at her. Now she was in shock, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Your Highness, I don’t think you understand. Whether you renounce your claim or not, Her Majesty has no viable claim to the throne. She is not carrying an heir, nor did she produce one. With Harold dead, she can no longer hold the throne. If you renounce your claim, then there is no ruler.”    
  
Rose’s face went into an irritated scowl, as she resumed untangling the crown from her curls. “James, don’t shout. It’s fine.” He could tell by the angry but defeated sound of her voice that she was not fine. “We knew it was coming. Don’t be an idiot.” She looked down at the scripted parchment in front of her, and James wanted to rip it up. “What about clause B?” She dropped her hands to the paper, turning it, Sliding it away from her. “If there is a next in succession that is of age, unmarried, and of agreement, the Widow(er) may propose  marriage. If accepted, the current King or Queen may hold the throne until their wedding day, and the Heir is crowned.” Her amber eyes darted around the faces, looking at the accusingly. “Nobody mentioned that.”   
  
“Your Grace, we assumed, with everything you’ve been through-“ James knew that word choice was a bad one even before Rose’s sharp tone cut them off.    
  
“You assumed what? That I wouldn’t be in agreement, that I was in too fragile a state to make my own decision.” James had to bite back a chuckle as she fixed them all with glower fierce enough to make any man back down. Rose had always disliked things kept from her, and people, especially now men, making decisions for her, and over the last week that had become the easiest way to anger her. “Never assume to know what is going through my mind, Lords, because you haven’t the faintest idea.”    
  
Not wanting to see the Council members end up with one of her slaps, James cut in. “My Lords, give her Grace and me a bit of privacy for a moment.” Her eyes snapped to his, and he held them. He knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, but it needed saying. “Now.” They hurried from the room, but he knew they’d be listening in.    
  
“What?” Rose leaned back in her chair as she stared at James. Honestly, how did he expect her to react? Did he expect her to run upstairs and pack her things, agreeing to join her father as he left in the morning. No, she refused. James was staring at her as if the answer should be obvious. Nothing was obvious when it came to her life anymore, except that she had fought too hard to remain herself, and she refused to have what little she had done stripped away. She had sacrificed so much for her efforts. “You said it yourself, James. I earned my right to be Queen. I have shed blood, sweat, and tears to bring the changes to this Kingdom in the three and a half months since I became queen. One stupid, outdated law isn’t going to make me back down.”    
  
“What if I’m not in agreement to marry you?” Rose felt his words like a physical slap. He wasn’t frowning, smiling, or really doing anything, just looking at her like he was trying to explain something completely logical. Eighteen years they’d been promised to each other, and suddenly he didn’t want to marry her? “I have to be in agreement, but what if I’m not?”    
  
“I thought you loved me.” Rose felt the rejection wash through her. Her mind wandered to the scars on her body, the brands marring her skin. Of course, he loved her, but he didn’t want her. Nobody would want her. Not that she was even sure she wanted to be wanted. She had expected him to support this decision, as he had every one so far, but now he was backing down? He had just offered to renounce his title to allow her to stay, but he wouldn’t marry her. “So I’m fit to be queen, just not your wife?”    
  
“Yes.” James’ simple statement was a blow to her already fragile ego. Rose knew she was a good and fair ruler, but it was her own self worth she doubted. Every time she felt just a little bit more sure of herself, the nightmares knocked her back down. Now James was doing it too. “But not because I don’t love you, or want to be your husband. You don’t really want to be my wife. You don’t love me, and I won’t ask or force you to be.”    
  
“Oh.” Rose had to take a breath to steady herself. That hadn’t even been a thought in her head. Feeling love with marriage had become an abstract concept to her. It existed, but not for her, not something she felt could ever be meant for her. Once upon a time, when she was younger, when she didn’t understand how the world worked, she had thought so. “I trust you, I mean, I know you wouldn’t be like him.”    
  
Trust was a shaky concept. Rose trusted her father, because he was like an ancient oak, solid, unflinching, and would be there through it all. She trusted Jack, because, well, Jack had always been a friend, right from the first dance, unashamed in his openness and candor. James was different, confusing in his place in her life. She had loved him, then lost him, then he’d saved her. Yet, He had hidden things from her, left her vulnerable to Harold’s darkness. She knew it had been because he thought his status as her future husband would protect her, but two years of absence had proved it wouldn’t.    
  
“If you trust me, why do you recoil every time I touch you in the slightest way?” James’ words were forlorn, as he splayed his palms across the table between them. “If I can’t even hold your hand, how can I ask you to kiss me on our wedding day, much less share a marriage bed, or eventually ask you to carry our children?”   
  
Rose looked away from his earnest eyes. She couldn’t stand the way he looked so torn over her behaviors. She didn’t intentionally balk at his touch, it was just so ingrained her her entire being that affection led to pain. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to do it. I can’t help it.” She hated it, hated feeling so afraid of being touched. Not that she feared all touch, three nights this week she had sought Juliza out in Sarah Jane’s old room and clung to her just to sleep. She felt she was too old to wake her father, even though he would let her without complaint. “I just need time.”    
  
“Will you look at me, if you can?” The question was always the same, if she could. If she could, would she have tea with him, or walk to the meeting with him, or tell him what was on her mind? He never told her to do it, or asked for it outright, it was only if she could. Rose could look at him, and so she did. He had that look on his face, the one that said he wished he could go back and change it all, that he hadn’t kept things from her, that he missed seeing her as she was before. “I love you, and yes, I want to marry you, but only if you love me too.”    
  
“You have to marry somebody.” Rose let the thought slip out without considering her words. “You’re the last Saxon, you have to produce an heir. If you love me like you say you do, how can you take another woman as your wife in good conscience? How can you take her to a marriage bed, when the whole kingdom knows you wish it was me?” That shut him up, and he jerked back in his seat, mouth snapping closed. “I’ve had a week, James, a single week to do my best to adjust, and now everything I’ve spent my life preparing for is about to be ripped away. Twice in the past you asked me, and now you won’t let me ask you?”   
  
“You’ve definitely got the politics of ruling down to an art.” James was in a corner, and he knew it. There were only a limited number of eligible matches for him, of women who were of age that were still single. Even if he took a woman of lesser notability, or one of Ohila’s daughters, everyone would know it was simply to keep the Saxon line going. He could care for them, maybe even feel affection, but not love them. He could never love anybody but her, and whatever wife he took would know they were second choice. It wasn’t a fair game in any way. Rose knew exactly where to push people, and for James it was his honor. He wouldn’t take Rose’s crown, because she had earned it. He wouldn’t plunge the kingdom into chaos of houses demanding an evaluation of who took the throne if he renounced his claim because he loved Gallifrey too much. “I’ll marry you.”    
  
“So which one of us is supposed to present a ring this time?”  There it was, just for a heartbeat, Rose’s eyes lightened, and her tongue grazed her teeth. It was gone, fading into a half grin, but James had seen it. His Rose was still in there, somewhere, and hope bloomed in his veins.    
  
James couldn’t stop the smile as he waved his hand. “I’ll handle the ring, sorta my thing.” Rose shook her head with an eyeroll, and he just chuckled. It was the most genuine emotion apart of anger and sadness he had seen since he came home.    
  
“If you can unglue your ears from the door!” Rose called, and James had to snicker at the annoyance in her voice. “Come back in.” The door did indeed open, and the High Council came back into the room. “I know you overheard already, but in case you missed anything, Prince James and I agreed to marry.”    
  
“How soon?” Lord Grant looked between them as if he wasn’t sure how the day had gone this way. Honestly, neither did James. He had been anticipating this meeting for a week, but he hadn’t expected Rose to present such calm and logical front. Then again, he knew better than to underestimate her tenacity. What he did know, was when he wanted it to happen.    
  
“Yule eve, if my Queen agrees.” It wouldn’t have been acceptable to make it much longer, as the High Council would have demanded it be immediately. Then there was the fact that spring hadn’t gone so well for her or him the last few years. Yule was also when Rose was the happiest, even in their years of letter writing, she had been most open around then. It would give them both two and a half months to prepare.    
  
“Yule is perfect.” Rose stood up, and James wondered for a moment if she was going to end the meeting. Instead, she lifted his discarded coronet and brought it around to him. “You’ll need this back.” James reached up to take it, but she slipped it onto his head, her little finger brushing his temple. “That’s better.”    
  
“Thank you.” Rose had to resist the urge to flinch as James looked up at her. It was the closest they had been since the fire, although she did have a half dream memory that he was the one who had carried her up to bed and tucked her in.    
  
“You’re welcome.” She backed away to resume her seat, feeling every eye in the room on her. “So, now that’s all settled, anything else to discuss that wasn’t already covered in our session yesterday?” The Kingdom was preparing for winter, so there wasn’t much on the agenda except what they had been discussing before Harold’s arrest and execution.    
  
“No, your Grace.” Lord Dorium, head of trade replied.    
  
“Then you can go about your day, gentlemen.” Rose had planned one wedding already, and she knew that having only two months to do this one would be hectic. She was thankful James had chosen Yule, because spring was painful for her now, and also their families would be there for the Yule Solstice Gala anyways. She watched as James stood up to leave after the men, and she moved back to her feet. “James.”    
  
“Yes, Rose?” He asked, turning to face her. Sometimes, Rose forgot that she had found him so attractive, but when he said her name like that, looked at her with rapt attention, she remembered the awe she had felt the first time she’d come to the castle. It rarely lasted though, chased away by her demons and doubts. “Do you need something?”    
  
“Yes, actually.” Rose fidgeted with her thumbs, reminding herself for what felt like the millionth time that he would never hurt her. “The wedding, I don’t want a big one.” Looking back now, the pressure, the grandeur had all been because people had said Harold had wanted it that way. He was a show off. “Just a ceremony before Yule dinner, with your Coronation.”    
  
“Rose, I will be happy with whatever you choose.” James’ smile was that soft one she remembered from so many years before, and she knew it was genuine. It made his eyes crinkle just so, and his brows smooth almost flat. “You don’t even have to kiss me if you can’t.” There it was again, the assurance that he only wanted her to give as much as she was capable.    
  
“I’m going into town, to see the kids.” Rose drew a breath, figuring if they were going to be married she better get used to being around him outside of official duties or emotional break downs. “Would you like to come?” It was the first time she had invited him anywhere, and the smile it gave him did ease her dark thoughts a bit, like a single candle in a midnight corridor.    
  
“I’d love to come.” James rubbed a hand across his hair, and Rose had come to recognize that he did that when he wanted to take her hand or reach out and touch her. She didn’t have words to express how grateful she was that he gave her all the space and time she needed without being asked. “But I need to make a quick stop by your dad’s room.” Rose arched an eyebrow. “Can’t marry you without his blessing.”    
  
“Right.” Rose gave a soft huff at his words. She hadn’t thought about that. She should probably go tell Juliza about the change in Yule plans. It felt a bit weird, somehow more formal than their first proposal eight years ago. “I need to go find Juliza.”    
  
“I’ll meet you at the stables?” James arched an eyebrow, and Rose nodded. “Be there in a bit.” The tension between them was so thick she was sure it was going to snap. It wasn’t charged or even fearful, just palpable with awkwardness. He moved first, turning away to walk out. Rose let out her breath, waiting for a few moments before doing the same.    
  
She found Juliza in the banquet hall, where she had been interviewing handmaidens to replace the ones who left. Rose waited quietly in the doorway for her to finish, offering a smile to the woman her age that curtsied before passing. She may as well jump to the point. “I’m marrying James on Yule eve.”    
  
Juliza’s eyes went wide in shock. “Really?” Rose shrugged as if to say there wasn’t much of a choice. “Let me guess, if you don’t you have to step down. How’d he take it?”    
  
“He refused at first.” Rose looked down at her hands, still not sure how she felt about the whole thing except that she didn’t want to abandon everything she’d worked hard for. “Because I don’t love him, but I managed to get him to see the logic.” She just hoped it didn’t turn out to be a disaster. James was right. How could she get through their wedding night in two and a half months, if she couldn’t even stand in a room with him without having to force herself not to be afraid   
  
“You’ll love him again.” Juliza smiled, reaching out to take her hands. Rose did her best to smile back. She wished she had Juliza’s confidence in that front. “I know sort of what you’re going through. I was in love with someone, not that I could ever have them. Then, even after everything you and I went through together, I didn’t think I’d find someone who could see past it. I did.”    
  
“Who?” Rose was curious. It had been a week, and she hadn’t left the castle. Juliza’s cheeks flushed pink, and Rose was excited for the first time in months. “Tell me! Who is it?”    
  
“Jack.” Juliza hummed happily. Rose felt her heart soar in joy. Then, caution crept in on her. Didn’t Juliza know he was a bit of a womanizer, well humanizer since he enjoyed both companies. Her friend seemed to understand, because her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Trust me, he and I have very similar tastes in aspects neither of us knew about the other until recently.”    
  
“As long as he makes you happy.” Rose knew Juliza deserved it, after everything she had gone through since her sister. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him myself.” The threat was needless, because Jack would never do anything like that.    
  
“I am happy.” Juliza hugged her tightly. “If I can love, Rose, then you can too. You just have to take time, find your way to remember how. James will wait for you to get there.”    
  
“I know.” Rose squeezed her back. She did know that, but she couldn’t figure out if that was a terrifying thought or a happy one. What if she never could?   
  
James knew Pete would be with his men, arranging the trip back in the morning, and he found him near the barracks. He was overseeing a wagon of supplies being loaded. “Pete, have a moment?”   
  
“Always.” Pete stepped away from the men as James gestured him out of their earshot. He wasn’t sure how the man was going to react. His normally cool temperament had been almost as on edge as his daughter. “Is everything okay with Rose? Did the Council tell her?”   
  
“Yes, and that’s why I’m out here.” He shifted his weight, trying to remain calm. “Rose isn’t stepping down.” Pete opened his mouth, but James held up a hand. “There was a clause in the law that allowed her to remain Queen, but with a condition.”    
  
“She’s staying.” Pete didn’t seem particularly surprised. He knew his daughter wouldn’t go down without a fight, ever. “What’s the condition?”    
  
“I am.” James pushed aside the urge to rub his short hair, a new found habit he had developed. “I’ve come to ask your blessing on me keeping the oath I made eight years ago.” Pete’s jaw dropped for a breath, then snapped shut as his eyebrows narrowed. “It was her idea, not mine. If we marry, she stays Queen and holds the throne until our wedding day.”    
  
“Rose wants to marry you?” James nodded, shrugging to show he was just as stunned. He was still trying to wrap his mind around her argument. He kept his stances relaxed as Pete crossed his arms. “She asked you?” Again he nodded. “Then I give it, but I swear this James. I will never see her hurt again. I won’t need my sword to end it.”    
  
“I’d never even touch her without her consent.” James swore to her father just as he’d sworn to her over and over again. “The wedding will be on Yule eve, before the dinner.”    
  
“We’ll be there.” Pete finally uncrossed his arms and extended a hand. James shook it firmly, not complaining when he squeezed just a bit too firmly. “Do you still love her?”    
  
“Irrefutably and unconditionally.” He truly did, and nothing would change that. Though, Pete’s next statement would stay with him for the following months.    
  
“Remember that, when she finally opens up enough to bare her body to you.” The anger in his eyes was merged with pain that only a father could carry. “You haven’t seen everything he did to her, but I have. If he weren’t dead, I’d still be torturing him for each scar.”    
  
James hadn’t seen it all, just the brief glance that night they’d stormed in, and the glimpses he’d gotten of her arms and legs before. Martha and Juliza had been ordered by her to tell no one of the extent, though both women had seemed empathetically down trodden when he asked. “I will love Rose, no matter how damaged she thinks she is. I swear that to you and her.” Pete’s face softened as he released James’ hand. “Thank you, for trusting me.” Then, James left him to his work, and joined Rose at the stables.

 


	38. Chapter 38

Rose didn’t mean to stare, but she couldn’t rip her eyes away from James’ bare back. Despite the chill that was clinging to the mid autumn noon, he had stripped out of his shirt along with the other men, hauling lumber and yanking ropes. They were building onto the orphanage, adding an additional class room, another two dormitories, and expanding the dining area. She had known of the plan to get it done before winter fully took hold, but she hadn’t expected to find James there in the midst of it all, working just as hard.    
  
His back was a knot work of white lash scars, interspersed with circular burn wounds and the evidence of being cut many times. Along the top , where his spine met his neck, were the thicker raised scars from his own collar. Rose had known he was tortured by the Daleks, had been whipped by that captain of the smuggler ship, but it was the first time she had seen the results in full day light. It made her pull Antiope, her new mare, to a halt. Kalliope was gone, as Rose had sent her as a gift to one of Lord Dorium’s nieces that wanted to train to be a knight. Every knight needed a good mount, and Kalliope was perfectly suited. Rose looked forward to meeting the girl at Yule.    
  
For now, though, she stayed back, watching James as he labored. Despite being Prince, and king in a month and a half, he was sweating and working just as hard as the other men. When the foreman shouted orders to do this or that, he did it without question. It was such a stark contrast to his brother. A contrast Rose was happy to see. There was no way he could have known she was coming, because she had made the decision half an hour before, after holding the midweek court. No, he was out here working because he wanted to be, because he loved the people, and because he had been worried that it wouldn’t be finished before the first snows.    
  
The scars on his skin reminded her of her own, the ones she kept covered as often as possible, the ones that made her breathing difficult anytime she looked in the mirror. Rose had never realized how she and James matched in that aspect, and she wondered if the circumstances behind them ever made him wake up in cold sweats, relieved that freedom wasn’t a dream.   
  
“How often has he been out here?” Rose whispered to Maedrid, the lead carer for the children. She had been curious as to where he had been disappearing to over the last few days, after council meetings and his duties were done.    
  
“Third day in a row, your Grace.” The woman smiled gently, as she looked over to where the children were in line at the bakery buying hot, fresh pasties. “Just came down one afternoon, unguarded, in plain clothes and asked how he could help.” Rose looked up at the woman, who was slightly taller than her, as Maedrid chuckled lightly. “Surprised the foreman, but they put him to work. He’s a good man.”   
  
“Yes he is.” Rose couldn’t deny that. James was a good man, but things still weren’t good between them, not fully. He was patient with her, letting her take her time to come to him. It was so hard for Rose, but she was trying. The day before was the first time he had smiled at her, and it didn’t make her wonder if there was an impending slap behind it. “James understands things most people of his birth wouldn’t.” She held her breath as the subject of their conversation swayed where he was balanced on a crossbeam, but steadied himself and continued his journey with his hammer and fist full of nails.    
  
“And he’s good with the children too. I’m afraid a few of our older girls have become a bit infatuated with him, your Grace.” Rose knew the oldest was fifteen, with a few ranging between that and thirteen. She had to giggle at that. She remembered being that age, how one crooked smile and sparkle of those eyes often reduced her into a puddle. They didn’t anymore, and sometimes, when he caught her off guard, she did wish they did.    
  
“Sorry to disappoint them, but he’s taken.” Rose glanced over to where the children were eating their treats and watching the men work. “Let me guess, he pays for those treats every day too.” Maedrid nodded, apologizing swiftly as two of the younger kids began to bicker and she ran over to stop them.    
  
She glanced back at the workers, having lost sight of James for a moment, but then he was sliding down a rope to the ground, wiping his brow, and heading to the water bucket. That was another thing Rose had learned. He didn’t fear assassination like his brother had. James never restricted her to only meals he deemed appropriate, but did support her decision to dismiss the  royal taster, who was a man in his late twenties with a family, and bring back the former one. Henry was in his sixties, never married, and no children. Rose appreciated how he let her make the decisions she was most comfortable with, only questioning them when he didn’t fully understand.    
  
Rose stroked Antiope’s neck, trying hard to remember how it felt when she wasn’t how she was now, alert, on edge, constantly waiting for herself to wake up and be trapped again. Then James turned, those vibrant eyes finding her, and he smiled. His smile didn’t scare her like it used to, but it didn’t make her heart skip like it once had either. She smiled back, waving slightly in greeting as he picked up a rag to wipe his face and began picking his way through the workers to her. “Hi.” Rose looked up into his face as he stopped arms length away and bowed slightly. “Working hard I see.”    
  
“Doing my best.” James didn’t seem to realize he was still shirtless, and this close Rose could see his chest and lean abdomen were also criss crossed with knife scars and circles where hot irons had been stabbed into his skin. The freshest scar, which was still pink, was on his shoulder, where Harold had cut him with her father’s sword. “Thought you weren’t coming down until tomorrow.”    
  
“I was done early, wanted to see the kids.” Rose watched as a bead of sweat dripped down his nose and then fell to the mud. For a flash, she was back in the bedroom, burning and freezing with fever, as Sarah Jane’s blood dripped from her lip and the single drop stained the rug. She gasped, closing her eyes, shaking her head to dispel the vision, as the panic blazed in her chest.    
  
“Breathe, Rose.” James murmured softly, but he didn’t touch her. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to remind herself that she was okay, safe, and it was over. “Let it out.” Rose blew the breath out, opening her eyes fo find him watching her with unabashed concern. “Have you eaten since breakfast? I bet not, come have a meatpie.”    
  
“Thank you.” Rose fell into step beside him, fighting to keep herself grounded. She hated the flash backs, how they terrified her, how they made her feel so alone and trapped. Her distracted thoughts made her trip over a loose cobblestone, and she grabbed onto his elbow for support. It was dirty with sweat, dust, and grime but that didn’t phase her. “Sorry.”    
  
“It was a stumble.” James smiled, making to move his arm once she was steady, but Rose didn’t let him. For once, the thought of touching him didn’t shake her. Maybe it was the dirt, the cold sweat, or the few scars that raised his skin that did it. Apart from his head and thigh, Harold didn’t have any marks on his soft skin. James did, and the difference was just enough to not make her flinch as he led her into the shop. “One hot meat pie please Deidre.” He smiled, digging into his pocket for a gold coin. “And a pint of cider if the children left any.”    
  
“Of course, your Highness, your Grace.” The plump woman disappeared into the back, and Rose finally released James’ arm. She saw his smile falter some, but couldn’t make herself raise her hand again. Their hands brushed, and she did let her pinky curl around his. That she could do, didn’t feel the need to pull away. It was a little victory, but those hand always been her goal. The smile lifted again on his face, and she felt her own turn up her lips just a tad.   
  
Rose was touching him, and James relished the simple feel of their joined fingers. It was the longest contact since the fire, and he knew it had taken her an enormous effort to do it. He held her mug of cider, as she accepted the small pie and they meandered together out of the shop to watch the kids play and the men work on the expansion. The air was chilly, now that he wasn’t exerting effort into building, but he wasn’t about to go find his shirt when Rose was holding him in place with her finger. “Good eh?” He queried, as she licked a flake of crust off her lip before taking another bite.    
  
“Mmhmm” Rose’s response was a content hum. Contentment was a new sound for her, and James felt his heart swell as she looked up at him through her lashes while she chewed. “Delicious. You were right, I missed lunch. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t skip meals.”    
  
“It happens.” James shrugged. Rose apologized a lot now, and at first he had told her it wasn’t necessary. Juliza had advised him not to do that, because it only made Rose overthink things more. So he had stopped, choosing instead to assure her that what she saw as breaking some rule he didn’t understand wasn’t breaking one at all. It was just normal human behavior. That had gotten him much more open conversations in return. Now it earned him a squeeze of her pinky. One month, two Rose initiated touches in the span of half an hour. He was perfectly fine with this progress.    
  
“Cider please?” Rose had just licked the last of her pie from her fingers and was extending her hand. James passed the drink to her with a smile, watching as she grinned lightly in return before drinking. “Aren’t you cold?” She asked after taking a long swallow.    
  
“Bit, but that’s okay. I’ll warm up again when I get back to work.” James shrugged, too happy to continue standing this close to her, feeling her hand brush his to worry about a cold breeze. “At this rate, we should be done by Friday with the outside, and then we’ll start on separating the rooms.” He enjoyed working on this project, because it was important to her, to the kids, and the men treated him as an average person when he joined them.    
  
“I’m glad you’re helping.” Rose passed him the mug which he sat down on the windowsill of the shop. He’d return it to Deidre when she left. First, he had something for Rose. He’d intended to give it to her at dinner tonight, but feeling her more relaxed than he had since he returned was too much to pass up.    
  
“I enjoy helping, and I like spending time with the kids too.” James looked around, trying to find the boy, Geoff, had entrusted with his sword and coat. “And it gives me the time to keep promises.” Rose arched an eyebrow in his peripheral, but James caught sight of Geoff, who was kicking a ball to a girl. “Geoff, can you bring me the small bag in my coat?” The boy dashed over to where he had James’ things nearby, and then hurried over present the small satchel. “Good lad. Go and play now.” With a smile, the boy bounded back to his friend.    
  
“What’s in there?” Rose’s voice was curious, and James separated their joined fingers to open the strings. He felt his heart skip in anticipation as the lone object inside fell into his palm. “Is it for me?” Her amber eyes were somewhat cautious, and James remembered Harold had used gifts to lure her into false security. This wasn’t a gift though.    
  
“Yes it is.” James opened his palm to show her the ring he had picked up this morning. The afternoon light sparkled on the diamond and sapphires that flanked it. It was simple, only three stones, but when he had seen it in the window on his ride down, James had known it was meant for her finger. “I promised you a ring.”    
  
He watched as her eyes softened, and her lips broke into a real smile. It was important to him that the ring he picked was something new, something that was completely and entirely their own. Apparently it was as necessary to her as well, because Rose’s smile grew wider. There! Just as she raised her left hand, her tongue caught between her teeth. “It’s perfect. James, I love it!”    
  
“I saw it, and I knew it would fit.” James couldn’t keep back the broad smile as he slid it onto her finger. He knew sometimes when he smiled like this, all teeth, almost laughing, she grew nervous. “May I?” He squeezed her finger tips gently, and at her nod, he folded his own around her hand and lowered his lips to kiss her knuckles. She shuddered, smile faltering, and he released her gently. Her tongue disappeared, which was sad, but she kept smiling as she admired the promise on her hand. The ring was a perfect. “Thank you.”    
  
James knew Rose knew he was thanking her for letting him touch her. He found it imperative that she understand he appreciated every effort she made to try to open up to him. Rose was worth the wait, worth every smile, every smallest brush of skin, and her pinky curled around his again. “James?” Her voice was timid, almost uncertain as she looked up at him again. Was that a faint blush on her cheeks? No, it had to be the wind chilling her skin. “Could we star gaze tonight?”    
  
He felt like he’d been kicked by a war horse. Rose invited him to dinner, to ride with her into town, even once to have a walk in the gardens. That was always during the day, always when people were around. Star gazing was different. That was their special moment from before the war. It meant being alone with him, at night, high above everyone else. James knew what she was saying. She trusted him enough to be alone with him. “I’ll bring the wine and a snack.”    
  
“Great.” Rose released his hand, brushing her hair back, as she smiled, this time shyly. “Um, you should probably get back to work. I have to go see Juliza for wedding plans.”    
  
“I love you. Ride safe.” James wanted to kiss her, but he knew he couldn’t, not yet. The feel of her knuckles under his lips were sufficient enough. He knew she wouldn’t say it back, but that was perfectly fine.    
  
“I look forward to tonight.” Rose’s words were enough, better than the usual ‘I know’ that she normally responded with. “You be careful working.” With that, she rejoined her guards and mounted Antiope. He watched her go, hoping as always she’d look back. She never had before, but he didn’t want to miss it if she did.    
  
This time, Rose did look back, her eyes finding his from five buildings away, and she gave that timid smile again before looking ahead. James preened as he turned back fo the builders. Rose was still in there, and he didn’t care if he had to wait five years, she was fighting to climb her way out.    
  
Rose didn’t really have much left to plan for the wedding. Since the Yule feast was already planned out, all she really had to do was decide on her dress, the flowers, and work on getting herself ready for the wedding night and two days being locked away with him. She wasn’t ready for the last bit, but certain things were expected. One thing she did know, would not move her mind from, was that she was not ready to be a mum. James would have to accept that, and if he didn’t, then she was prepared to stop it from happening. “My tea ready?”    
  
“Here it is.” Juliza handed her the cup, and Rose chugged it. She didn’t care that it was hot. She didn’t want to taste it, to be reminded of why she knew how to make it. Instead, she focused on the ring on her finger. It was simple, but it was also stunning.    
  
Rose didn’t have to ask to know he had purchased it instead of taken it from his mother’s jewelry. He seemed to know that she was at a point in her mind where she needed things that were hers, that could be used to make happy memories. Antiope had been first, chosen by Rose alone, and now her ring. She set the cup aside and looked at the dress sketches sent up by the seamstresses. None of them were her. “I don’t like them.”    
  
“Why don’t you design one yourself?” Juliza had picked up the cup and was standing by Rose’s long abandoned art supplies. She hadn’t touched them since the day before she married Harold, except to burn the pages she had done of the monster. “It would be perfect for you.”    
  
“Maybe.” Rose glanced out the window, a bit anxious now that it was past nightfall. She had invited James to go star gazing, but now the thought of being up there was intimidating. She hadn’t had dinner with James, as she needed time to recenter herself between their moment in town, going over winter preparations with Juliza, and wedding planning. “I held his finger today.” She hadn’t told her friend that yet. “I don’t remember him ever smiling so happily before.”    
  
“That’s good.” Juliza held up a cloak. “And now you’re going up to spend time with him.” Rose really was trying to do her best. “All he wants is for you to heal. The rest isn’t important to him.”    
  
The rest, those words covered a spectrum from hand holding to sex, and Rose knew Juliza was right. James had kissed her knuckles today, and it had startled her into a half memory but the instant he pulled back it faded. She needed this night, to know if she truly trusted him. “You’ll be with Jack in the library?” Juliza had offered to stay down below, as a way to ease Rose’s nerves.   
  
“Sure will.” She wrapped it around her, and Rose fastened the clasp. “Now, let’s go.” She nodded, fiddling with her sleeves, as Juliza led the way out. She could do this, Rose told herself. It was just another night star gazing. They’d done it plenty when they were courting.    
  
James had lugged the telescope out to the balcony, setting it up facing the half moon that was just over the trees. Some part of him wondered if Rose would send Juliza to tell him she couldn’t come. This was a big step, one he wasn’t sure Rose was quite ready to take. He didn’t want her to push herself too hard, to move too quickly than was suitable for her own heart. Yet, he loved her all the more for the effort.    
  
Once it was in place, he moved the small table inside out to set the wine, the warm bread, cheese, baked venison, and fruit dipped in chocolate on. Then he hung his lantern on the hook of the rail. It really should be off for this, but he wanted Rose comfortable. Finally he deposited two cushions, one on each end of the table, and two blankets joined them. The night would only get colder, and Rose used to forget that every time they did this before. Then he moved to the eyepiece of the telescope, adjusting it so the moon came into focus.   
  
“I’m here.” James turned from his work, standing straight as Rose stepped out. She took in his preparations, and shifted nervously. “You said a snack. That’s half a feast.”    
  
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I thought I’d bring a little of all your favorites.” James rubbed his had over his hair, taking in the simple dress, plain cloak, and her lack of crown. She looked absolutely breathtaking. “That alright?”    
  
“Yeah.” Rose smiled, and he felt a bit awkward. He wondered, briefly, if this was how she had felt all those years ago when they first met, and he had been the one reluctant to treat her like a future spouse. Then again, she had been ten, so maybe not. “Yeah, it’s perfect... I..” James stepped forward as she looked at the wall beside the door, and her breathing picked up. “I, love all those things.” Her gaze was glued to the spot, and suddenly she was shaking.   
  
Grief and panic set in, as James took her by the arms and helped her to sit so she was with her back to it, facing the table. “Rose, love, just breathe.” The last time she’d had a moment like this was when she had gone into Harold’s old office to find something. Her cry for Juliza had sent him racing the guards, to find her kneeling on the floor, unable to breathe, mumbling incoherently until Juliza eased her from the room. “Here, have some wine, or some bread. Just breathe.” He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew it was best.    
  
“I’m sorry.” Rose wiped her face, as he moved to his own cushion. “I forgot... I didn’t even think.” James didn’t press, he just waited for her to lift her goblet in shaky fingers and sip. She never talked about the things Harold had done to her, except the general explanation at the trial. What had happened up here? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.    
  
“We can go. Rose, I understand.” James hated that this place, their special place, had been tainted. “Say the word and I can move this all down to the garden or something.”    
  
“No!” Rose grabbed his arm, as James made to stand, and he froze. “I’ll be okay. I just need...” her breathing was leveling out, though she was still shaking in the lantern light. He held her gaze, trying to figure out what she needed. James would give it to her without question. “Can you put out the lantern, so it’s just the moon.”    
  
“Done.” James shuttered it, watching as the flame flickered out behind the panels. Rose still hadn’t released his arm, and she was staring at him like she was making a decision. She was making a lot of those today. “Berry for em.” He lifted the treat up as a means to draw her out of her thoughts.    
  
“I forgot this is where he and I first kissed.” Rose whispered, and James felt the chocolate covered fruit slip from his fingers at her words.    
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The ring](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/162622236514100702/#details?amp_client_id=uq-mVdWNZt23kbJCdfoWkCPpoQOOQlXSAWCFoyWKLJUD6pr0BCwB6Gteo8nrRHQm&mweb_unauth_id=5842a97347284a2ab97204097916f00a)


	39. Chapter 39

“Are you sure you don’t want to go down to the gardens or something?” James’ soft voice as he picked up the berry she had caused him to drop took some of the shame at the memory from Rose. “Or we can go to the library and I’ll read to you. I just want you to be-“   
  
“I want to stay.” She kept her hand on his arm, because it seemed if she let it go, James would insist on taking her down. She didn’t want to run. The admittance, the look of shock at her words had brought it to her mind that she never told him any of it. Rose had told her dad, even some to Jack, but the fear of James’ reactions had kept her from divulging to him. Her flashbacks and spells of panic either made him sad or angry, and she knew the anger wasn’t at her. “Please can’t we stay?”    
  
“Only if you want to.” James’ eyes glanced down at where her fingers were on his arm. Rose wanted to pull her hand away, to wrap her arms around herself as her mind was unwillingly recalling that night, the crying, the writing, and the lies behind the kiss. Without the lantern burning, the memory wasn’t as strong. The silver moonlight gave the balcony a different feeling than the yellow glow. James wouldn’t hurt her, she was safe. Slowly she slid her hand to the table and draped her little finger over his. “How about a bit of bread and cheese?”    
  
“I want to tell you.” It wasn’t so much of a want as a need. Rose was embarrassed at her own naivety in hindsight. Looking back now she knew Harold had followed her up, had stood in the shadows watching her, picking up when she was at her most vulnerable state, and using it to make his move. “Then we can eat or look through the telescope.” James drew a deep breath and then nodded, refilling her goblet with his free hand. She needed him to understand that there was so much more than the physical pain that was haunting her. That’s why it was so hard, why it took so much out of her to even do something simple like hold one finger.   
  
“It was..” Rose blew out a breath and stared down at the stable. She knew once she started talking, it would spill out. She could feel the memory thickening in her chest, aching, making it hard to speak. “The day they put your name in the crypt. It was so, cold, so formal. It didn’t feel like goodbye to me. So after dark, I came up here. I just wanted to be close to what we had one last time. I sat against the wall with a lantern and wrote a song. Then Har-he came up saying he wanted to say goodbye too. I sang it for him, and I cried. I cried so much, and he told me you would want me to live, to move on, to not be held back. He wiped my face, and it was cold, just like tonight, and he wrapped me in his cloak and held me. For the first time it didn’t hurt so bad, I didn’t feel guilty at the thought of marrying him. I kissed him, and then he just held me and let me grieve.” Rose let the words flow until her breath ran out, and she drew in a breath before adding. “He was so kind, always, before... and I was stupid, I was so stupid to fall in love with him.”    
  
The silence was absolute except for the sounds of the wind below them. Rose didn’t feel like crying, but she did hurt still. Not as bad, not as intense. Finally telling him, at least this one thing, had released the pressure in her chest some. She couldn’t meet his eyes though, partly out of shame for the memory and partly because she didn’t know how he was going to react. “You weren’t stupid, Rose Tyler. You were young, hurt, grieving, and he took advantage of that. He took your love for me, and twisted it like he did everything else. You are not at fault, for any of it.” She chanced a glance up, expecting to find his jaw clenched or his brows narrowed despite his gentle words. He was watching her with a tender gaze, eyes a bit watery as he did. “And one day, when you are ready, when it doesn’t hurt so much, I would very much like to hear that song. If you still have it.”    
  
“I do.” Rose had kept it when she purged all the other things, because it hadn’t occurred to her until she came up here to associate with Harold. That night had faded. “One day, maybe I can.” She picked up her goblet, drinking to clear her throat. He was silent again, as he lifted his own. She could tell he was thinking, as the veins in his temple bulged out a bit in the moonlight. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” She needed him to talk, or she was going to let her tongue roll out everything else, and this wasn’t the time, and she didn’t have anywhere near the amount of alcohol needed to get it all out.   
  
“You don’t want to know.” James shook his head, but that wasn’t an acceptable answer. James always told her what was on his mind, always had, even from the day they met. She squeezed his finger, asking again with her eyes. “I was...” he set his goblet down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was irritated, but with who? Was it her? Was it himself? She looked down, afraid she had said too much. “I was thinking how he must have courted you, gone above and beyond to lure you into loving him, and I was wondering how long after you married he waited to show his true colors.”    
  
“As soon as my dress hit the floor.” Rose shuddered at the memory. Fighting the bile in her throat. Just the brief consideration made her stomach clench, the memory of the pain was so intense she swore she could still feel him. “The worst part wasn’t even when he...” She couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t burden him with that image. “It’s when I screamed, and nobody came.” Rose looked away again, needing to change the subject before she started crying again. Getting that out had felt good in a way, but she couldn’t stomach anymore memories. “Jack said I have something similar to soldier’s sickness... that’s why I have the-“   
  
“Flashbacks and nightmares.” James whispered, and Rose looked up to find him quietly picking out the best chunks of cheese and arranging it on a slice of bed with his free hand. “I have it too.” He held it out to her, and she took it waiting for him to go on. He never talked about things like this before. “Mostly of the war, and of the Dalek camp, now...” he sighed, meeting her eyes a bit hesitantly. “I have them of the night we rescued you.”    
  
“I keep waiting to wake up and find myself back there.” Rose was shocked she had admitted that out loud. She never even told Juliza that. Tonight was a night for confessions apparently. “Sometimes I get so scared I go climb into Juliza’s bed.”    
  
“I like to go run around the castle grounds when I have the dreams. When I was on the ship, I’d spend my time replaying our conversations to calm down.” James nodded out to the empty air. Rose tensed a bit, wondering if his dreams made him as violent as Harold’s had. She hoped not, because she really didn’t fancy being choked by another half asleep husband. “The longer you go on, the more they fade. One morning you will wake up and realize halfway through breakfast you dreamed about something like riding your childhood horse or painting or danced at a ball.”   
  
“Really?” Jack hadn’t mentioned that. He just said that finding something to help her calm down was important. James smiled, and Rose nibbled her snack. She hoped he was right, that her monster wouldn’t haunt her dreams forever. “Thank you, for listening.”    
  
“No, thank you for telling me.” James blinked, and Rose saw a tear disappear into his lashes. “I know how hard it is for you to open up to me, and it means more to me than anything else when you do.”    
  
Something she had been wanting to tell him, but afraid it would upset him of push the wedge between them deeper was burning to be said. “I’m never going to be the same. I’m never going to be your Rose again, not like before. I’m-“   
  
“You’ll always be my Rose.” James’ soft sigh cut her words off, and he shifted his hand so her fingers were resting on his open palm. The instinct was to jerk away, but the moon was reflecting off of his eyes like it did off the spring, and she was frozen in place by the absolute love she saw in their depths. “Nothing will change that, ever. You may have been changed inside, but what makes you Rose is still there.” She swallowed hard, abandoning her snack on the table as she let his words roll over her, words she didn’t even know she needed to hear. “You still love, still fight, still care about people, still see the beauty and innocence in the world, and you want to protect it. That’s what makes you Rose, and that’s why I love you.” It wasn’t a jerk back to reality, or a snap of a piece into place, but the feeling that grew inside of her was just strong enough to make Rose a bit more brave.   
  
“Hold my hand.” Rose’s words were a shaky whisper, and James let out a trembling breath of his own. He waited for her to change her mind, to jerk away, and when she didn’t, he moved their hands together until their fingers laced. Her nervous eyes glanced down, as if trying to discern what was going on. “You always held my hand. I forgot. He never did, not like this. Not... as partners, as equals.”    
  
“And I’ll always hold it.” James didn’t know what the heavy and sad conversation had done, but her entire posture was different. She wasn’t curled in on herself, as if waiting on a slap. She wasn’t exactly relaxed, but that would come. Rose had opened up to him, one good memory, and then told him the bad. He had wanted to scream at Harold for it all.   
  
He had hoped, somehow, that maybe his bastard of a brother had at least waited until after the wedding night to go mental. James had hoped at least the first time she’d gone to bed had been gentle and sweet, but he should have known better. Not that he fantasized about taking Rose to bed, far from it. He fantasized about little things like hugging her or touching her hair. Making love was something that was so far from his mind, and now he knew that she didn’t even have one pleasant experience, it was even further. That was a step James absolutely refused to let her take until she was completely ready.    
  
“We haven’t done much star gazing.” Rose giggled. Wait? Rose actually giggled, snd she was squeezing his fingers. James must be dreaming, but he was wide awake and blimey it was beautiful.    
  
“Oh I have, just at the ones in your eyes and not the sky.” James hoped the words weren’t too forward, as such statements could send Rose back into her shell. He tensed, expecting her fingers to be pried away. Rose rolled her eyes and picked up her goblet. Tonight was definitely a night for change. “But I guess we can look at the ones above us instead.”   
  
“That was why I asked you up here.” Rose was still smiling, and her tone was light and playful, not like years before, but it was a start. “Come on. I forgot how to use this thing.” She tugged on his hand, and James was more than willing to follow her over to the telescope. Although he was sad it meant he had to let go of her hand to show her how to adjust the lenses to focus.    
  
The happy sounds she made as they took turns examining the distant moon and focusing in on the brightest stars made it worth not touching her. It was easy to forget that this wasn’t just another night, that Sarah Jane wasn’t about to come in and lovingly chastise them for standing too close or being out so late. So when he had the urge to stroke her back, or help hold her hair back, James had to stop himself. When they settled onto the cushions to wrap up in the blankets and nibble their food or share their wine, he had to remind himself he couldn’t lean over and kiss her brow.    
  
Rose giggled suddenly, as she braced her chin on her hand and stared up at the sparkling diamonds overhead. Her cheeks were a bit flushed from the wine, most definitely not from the funny story he was telling her about the time Jack had tried to ride a cove dolphin when they were repairing the ship. “What?”    
  
“‘S jus’.” James had always adored how her proper speech slipped when she indulged in alcohol. “When I thought you were dead, I used to imagine you on a ship sailing from star to star. Wasn’ half wrong was I?”    
  
“You should see them at sea.” James chuckled, reaching over to lift a bit of blanket that had slipped from her shoulder back up. “Especially when there’s no wind... ‘s like the water is a mirror. You can’t see where it ends and where the sky begins. Like you’re inside one of those snow globes you have in your room, except it’s all black.” He could see it, without even trying, one of those rare nights when the ship was silent and the world was calm. “The stars reflect off of the water, and there’s this one part of the sky that has so many it’s like somebody spilled milk across it. Sometimes when you stand very still and look up, you feel like you’ll fall over.”    
  
“Sounds magical.” Rose’s eyes found his, and she sighed happily. He chanced taking her hand, and it felt just as peaceful when she didn’t pull away. “Could we go to sea some time? I would love to see it.”   
  
“I’ll take you wherever your heart desires, Rose Tyler.” James couldn’t bring himself to add Saxon, because those three syllables had always felt so delightful on his tongue. “You say the word, and I’d find the way to build you a ship sailing the stars if I could.”    
  
“Because you love me?” Rose whispered that sentence, and James could hear the edge of uncertainty in her words. He knew she doubted his love sometimes, and she probably always would. That was okay, because he was more than happy to remind her every day.    
  
“Because I love you very much.” Carefully, holding her eyes, he lifted their joined fingers to his lips. James waited for her nod or the shake of her head, and when her ears and cheeks darkened just a tad more, she nodded. He placed to softest, briefest, most tender kiss he could to her hand before lowering back to the table. “‘S that all right?”    
  
“Quite all right.” Rose looked away again, face relaxing from the smile as she stared up at the moon. “Be patient with me.” She murmured, so softly he wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t been watching her lips.    
  
“I’ll wait a lifetime if that’s what it takes.” James meant it too. Rose tightened her fingers just a tad in his, as the silence that followed wasn’t tense or anxious for once. It was companionable, relaxing, and the cold in the air didn’t bother him in the least as he joined her in her amazement of the night sky.    
  
Eventually they turned to talks of normal things like what books they had begun reading, and what their day had been like after the moment in town. They both chuckled over how the older girls in the orphanage had a crush on him, and how Jack and Juliza would probably be getting married in the spring. The moon had shifted high overhead, and the hard work of the day had his eyes drooping shut as Rose yawned herself. She obviously wasn’t ready to leave, and neither was he.    
  
So James just watched her in the soft, silver light, as her body slowly relaxed until her chin was resting on her arm on top of the table. He didn’t even register dozing off, until a soft hand shook his shoulder and he blinked up to find a sleepy and relieved looking Juliza standing above them. She smiled softly, pointing down, and he sighed as he saw Rose had fallen asleep with her cheek resting on their joined hands. “What time is it?” He whispered.    
  
“About midnight. Jack’s gonna take her to bed.” The woman rubbed his shoulder softly, and moved to wake Rose.    
  
“I can do it.”    
  
“James, you’ve been drinking.” Jack whispered from the doorway as he stepped out. “Smells like she has too.” He chuckled as he lifted her into his arms. “Don’t need you dropping her down the stairs.”    
  
“You’re right.” James released her hand with a sigh, staggering to his feet. He hated it when Jack was right about things like that. It wouldn’t do to accidentally hurt her after the strenuous progress they’d achieved. “If she wakes up, tell her I said goodnight.”    
  
“I will.” Jack whispered as he turned to the door. James watched him go, as Juliza rubbed his back in a friendly way.    
  
“She drank alone with you, that’s a good sign.” James hadn’t even thought of that, but he knew she was right. Rose had consumed more wine tonight than she had since he had helped free her. “She still loves you, just let her remember it.” He gave the woman a one armed hug, guiding her to the stairs. James had promised Rose as much time as she needed, and he’d give it.   
  
Rose stirred at the sensation of being propped up and having her cloak undone and slid off. For a moment there was a flash of panic, but she smelled Jack’s aftershave and relaxed. “Where’s James.” Rose remembered closing her eyes with him smiling at her, stroking her thumb with his, and the sleepiness was tugging her back down as Jack lowered her to the pillows. The fireplace was the only light as he tucked the blankets around her   
  
“You two fell asleep outside. He wanted to bring you down, but since he was drinking he asked me.” Jack whispered, stroking her hair. “He was afraid he’d drop you, and he never wants to cause you harm. He said to tell you goodnight, and he loves you.”    
  
“He’d never hurt me, even accidentally.” Rose murmured, rolling onto her side as Jack kissed the crown of her head. Tonight had proved that, as had the last month. “Tell him goodnight for me, if you see him.”    
  
“I will, Rosie girl.” Jack patted her arm softly, and Rose was asleep before he even left the room.    
  
When she woke hours later, panting, sweating, and panicking, Rose’s first thought was that James was actually dead, and that the night had been the real dream. Then a soft sob drew her eyes to the door. Juliza was there, in her night dress, wringing her hands. “I’m scared.” Her friend whispered. “And Jack had early duty. Can I just..”    
  
“Of course.” Rose lifted her blankets and snuggled into Juliza’s arms. If Jack was there, then James was alive. If James was alive then Harold was gone, and that was a world that wasn’t so scary. “He can’t hurt us anymore.” She whispered, as sleep tugged her back down. It was the first time she had comforted her friend, and saying the words made them seem more real.

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna cliffie with the “No”, buuuuuut I think i’ve cliffied ya’ll enough

“Please Mum, just don’t cry.” Rose blew out a breath as she steadied her hands on the belt of her dressing robe. Her mother and Juliza had spent the last hour helping her do her hair and makeup, and now it was time to get dressed. The wedding gown, one she had pushed aside her nerves to carefully sketch and color, was draped across the bed. It was the first time her mother would see her bare body, and she knew if Jackie started crying, she would cry.    
  
“Can’t make any promises.” Jackie looked as pale and terrified as Rose had felt all day. Steeling herself, she untied the satin material and tossed it aside. Her mum gasped, eyes going wide, and Rose felt her stomach clench, cheeks burning, as she forced her gaze away. “By the goddesses, oh sweetheart.” She felt her coming closer, a tight hug on the way.    
  
“Mum, can you wait until I’ve got my underthings on.” Rose whispered, and bless Juliza, because she was already coming over with the white and pale blue bustier underdress for her to step into. She met her mum’s eyes again, and of course she was crying. Rose had to push her own tears back, because today she wasn’t supposed to cry. She had to smile. There would be close to a hundred set of eyes watching her, and it was imperative they didn’t see how scared she was.    
  
She wasn’t afraid of marrying James, at all. That was a fact that had been ingrained in her mind since she was old enough to understand. She wasn’t afraid of him ever hurting her or her girls, threatening her family, or anything of that sort. Rose just still wasn’t ready to go beyond holding hands, or the occasional touch of his fingers on her lower back when he was escorting her up of down stairs. How was she going to kiss him? How was she going to be able to go into his bed without panicking? “Rose, honey, why are going through with this? You should have come home and left this place behind.” Jackie’s voice was trembling, and Rose understood why her mum was upset. Her dad, the high council, and even James had been of the same thoughts.   
  
“Because!” Rose smoothed the lace skirts, as Juliza picked up her dress, and Rose stepped into it. “I am Queen. I refuse to step aside because some bastard did all of those things. I won’t let the people I’ve fought for, that I’ve worked hard for, down.” She slid her arms into the sleeves, letting her own words boost her confidence. “James will make a great King, and I know he won’t hurt me.”    
  
“Then why do you look like you’re going to be sick?” Jackie sighed, wiping her eyes. Rose swallowed. “You’re not ready. You should have abdicated and come home until you were ready for this.” Rose understood what her mum was saying, because she’d heard it, thought it once or twice herself.    
  
“Because it’s the right thing to do.” She knew it, felt it deep inside of her that this was who she was meant to be. “That’s what we do, Mum. We stand up, do the right thing, step in when bad things happen and say ‘No’. It’s who I am, and I won’t give that up.” Rose had to fight to keep her voice steady, because though she said the words, everything was becoming too much again. She was getting married, again, and this time she wasn’t in love. She cared for James, knew he would be a gentle husband, but she didn’t love him.    
  
“Couldn’t you have at least waited for sp-“   
  
“No!” Rose shouted at the same time Juliza did, making Jackie gasp in shock. “Mum, spring doesn’t exactly have the best memories for me. Yule is perfect.” It really was. The world was dead, trees bare, ground frozen, and snow and ice covered it all. Yet, it was a time of peace, of families gathering together, as the old faded away to make room for rebirth and regrowth after the thaw. “Yule is magical, and I can do this.”    
  
“Then you’re going to need this.” Jackie went to the box she had carried up, but Rose had assumed was a wedding gift of some kind. She watched, curiosity warring over her anxiety, as she opened it and lifted a stunning veil from inside. It wasn’t as opaque as her last one, nor as long, but it had pale blue stars embroidered across it, almost the same shade as the flowers on her dress. “I wanted it to be longer, but only had two months to make it.”    
  
Rose gasped, but she couldn’t bring herself to take the beautiful material. “Mum, I can’t wear a veil... ‘m not...” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She felt a stab of guilt as she stared at it. There would be no white sheet on the aisle, no virginal cloth on her bed tonight. James was coming to her unsullied, but she wasn’t going to him the same. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t.”    
  
“Wear it.” Juliza whispered in her ear, and Rose blinked at the words. Why? Why would she wear it? Everyone knew the truth. She couldn’t lie. “Because inside you are. Fuck everyone else’s opinions. You deserve to wear it, and I made sure the sheet was on that aisle too.” Her friend was absolutely right. She had never willingly given herself up, even on her wedding night, she had said she wasn’t ready. “Put it on her Lady Tyler.”    
  
Rose held stock still as her mum slipped the comb of the veil into her hair behind her crown, bringing the material down over her face. “Thank you, both.” Rose squeezed their hands as they smiled at each other. “I’m ready.” She couldn’t look in the mirror, because she knew if she did the flashbacks would come. She needed to go down now.    
  
“Your father is downstairs.” Jackie reassured her as Juliza opened the door. Rose started down the stairs, seeking out her father who was standing there gaping at her in wide eyed wonder.    
  
“What?” She managed to whisper as he took her hands. Rose had never seen him speechless, but he just drew a deep breath and hugged her. “Daddy, are you crying?” She squeezed her arms around him as he sniffled. He hadn’t cried at her last wedding.    
  
“Yes, because I am so proud of you, and you look absolutely perfect.” Pete pulled back, extending his arm, and Rose took it. “I love you, Rose.” She took his arm, and she let him lead her through the castle. Rose took the walk to force her emotions aside, pulling the mask of confidence she wore for council meetings and public addresses over her. She had mastered the art of acting long ago, and it helped her once again. She could do this, could do what was right for her people.    
  
As they reached the throne room doors, Fredrickson and Jack were waiting. Jack knocked once on the door, as he gave her a reassuring smile. Then the trumpets blasted. “You look stunning.” Jack whispered as he opened the doors, letting Rose step onto the white cloth scattered with pale blue flower petals. She forced her eyes upward, forward, until she found James, and she gasped at the complete difference from the last time she’d stepped up an aisle.    
  
James wasn’t smiling triumphantly, because his hands had fallen to his side as his jaw dropped. Even from this distance, Rose could see the look of breathless wonder on his face. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, instead of his uniform. The coat was cut similar to the black leather Jacket he wore in the winter, but was embroidered with pale blue threads that matched her gown. The black vest covered an equally black shirt, but the tie brought a burst of soft color with the blue threads. They were the exact color of his eyes, and Rose hadn’t even realize that until he met them at the head of the aisle and bowed at the waist. She didn’t have time to wonder why he hadn’t been at the top of the steps, because Father Octavian spoke.    
  
“Who giveth this woman away?” His voice didn’t boom like the other priests. It was a soft question, one of gentle curiosity.    
  
“She gives herself.” Pete responded, and Rose gasped at the words. This wasn’t how it went. James shared a look with her father, and she realized that his nervous request to plan this part of the ceremony had been to make it special, unique, for them. “With her mother’s and my blessing.” Rose absolutely loved the change, because it made it her choice.    
  
“May I lift your veil?” James asked quietly, and she nodded. He reached forward slowly, lifting it up and draping it back to smooth it along her hair. “Absolutely beautiful.” His words were a caress, and Rose found herself smiling, almost relaxed as he stepped back and held out his hand.  Her father released her arm, and Rose placed her own fingers in James’. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, as he led her up the steps to Father Octavian. She could do this.    
  
Rose looked absolutely enchanting, James thought. The dress was perfect, the way the plain white material fit her body, curving down to a modest skirt that belled out into a short train. The winter blue flowers that adorned the skirts, low collar, and billowing sleeves made her look like a winter faerie, stepping out to dance among the mortals. Even the nervous hesitation in her eyes, as she stared up at him was just so beautiful it made his heart feel near to bursting.    
  
Carefully, James laced their fingers and raised their hands up between them, not high and proud, but low, just at their chests, and the blush that spilled across her cheeks wasn’t fear. He knew it wasn’t love either, not yet, but it was affection. “Ladies and gentlemen, friends, family, and honored guests. We are gathered here to witness the union of James Saxon and Rose Tyler.” He had asked Octavian to keep titles out of the ceremony. This wasn’t about kings and queens. He wanted this to be about them, their union, and to show Rose that he wanted her for her, and not just as his queen. “If anyone has any reason why this two should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”    
  
Of course the room was silent, because there was no reason, unless Rose wanted to back out. After a pause, he felt Octavian drape the bonding ribbon around their wrists, and Rose’s face paled in horror. He knew that look, knew what was in her mind, and he took her other hand in his, soothing her, “breathe, love, breathe. It’ll be gone in a few minutes.” He whispered so low only Octavian would hear. “It’s me, okay. You’re safe.” Her nails bit into his palm, but she stopped trembling and nodded silently. Luckily, Father Octavian realized it, because he quickly spoke again.    
  
“Do you James Jonathan Wilfred Saxon take Rose Marion Tyler to be your wife? Do you promise to love her, to honor her, in sickness and health, to keep her safe, and take no other lover as long as you both shall live?”    
  
“I do.” James rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, as Rose’s eyes burned into his, her smile looking a little less forced. He reassured her with his eyes, conveying as much love and adoration into them as he could. He heard and saw her swallow as Octavian spoke again.    
  
“Do you Rose Marion Tyler take James Jonathan Wilfred Saxon to be your husband? Do you promise to love him, to honor him, in sickness and health, to keep him safe, and take no other lover as long as you both shall live?”    
  
“I do.” Her words were soft, but they carried out, and James hoped nobody but those privy to the full truth could see how hard she was fighting.    
  
“Then what the gods and goddesses have bound together, let not man or beast sever.” Father Octavian quickly removes the ribbon, and as soon as it was gone Rose’s entire demeanor relaxed. “You may now seal your union as you see fit.”    
  
James had wanted to avoid forcing Rose into a kiss, and was planning to simply place it on her brow, but that was changed when she stepped closer, chin tilted up, eyes searching his. “A kiss?” Her fingers squeezed his, and he lowered his face to brush his lips across hers in a gentle touch. Rose tensed under him, breath catching, so he pulled back to let her breathe. She seemed to be proud of herself, and James knew and adored how she had probably spent the last week working herself up to that. He wouldn’t initiate another, but oh he had missed how soft and warm she was. “I love you.” He murmured.    
  
“I kissed you.” She hummed back, and James knew it was another one of her ‘little victories’. To him they weren’t little, because he valued the effort she put into each one. He let her pull away, as the crowd applauded and cheered, and he knelt, staring down at the floor. He was so proud of her, loved her all the more for giving him that next step.    
  
“Citizens of Gallifrey, James was born to be King. He has fought relentlessly for the safety and prosperity of our land.” The power in her voice as she spoke was astounding, so different from the way she was when they were alone. He knew this was the right choice, letting her be his Queen. The crown came to rest on his head. “James Jonathan Wilfred Saxon, do you solemnly promise and swear to govern the kingdom of Gallifrey with kindness, wisdom, mercy, and love? Do you swear to uphold our laws, as they are written, and to make no changes that would bring harm or detriment to our people.”    
  
“I do so swear.” James’ breath caught as Rose stroked his face, her gentle fingers coming under his chin to tilt his head up. When he found her face, the world faded from his mind. She was smiling at him, his smile, eyes dancing, teeth flashing, tongue caught in the corner.    
  
“Then rise, my King.” James was on his feet in a flash, heart racing as her arm went around his waist. They hadn’t been this close awake, and it felt amazing. Everyone was applauding, but he couldn’t rip his eyes away from her. She was still smiling, but he could feel her fingers trembling against his back. “Now, let the celebrations commence.”    
  
“Rose, love.” James escorted her down to pass into the hall and lead the procession to the banquet hall. “If touching is too much...” he took her fingers in his, and the relief on her face was all too evident.    
  
“I needed to try.” She whispered back. “Because you love me, and I want to be a good wife. I want-“    
  
“Just being with me is enough.” James smiled, raising their joined fingers to kiss them sweetly. That was allowed now, especially when she was nervous. It wasn’t a hug, but the fact that it helped calm her was just as satisfying to him. “They’ll expect us to dance, but we don’t have to.” He led her to their table, helping her into her chair.   
  
“I want to try.” Rose tugged his fingers up to her cheek, and James about lost his legs as she rested her skin against them. He hoped this was a sign, a sign he made her feel safe. “Let me try please.”    
  
“Of course I will.” James held his fingers against her skin until she pulled away, and then he joined her in his own seat. Everyone was gathering to eat, and as their food was placed before them, he didn’t release her fingers for quite some time. “Happy Yule, Rose.”    
  
“Happy Yule James.” Rose squeezed his hand softly, as she picked up her goblet. The tongue touched smile told him she meant it with all her heart.    
  
Rose was immensely proud of herself. The panic she had felt when the ribbon was around her wrist had almost crumbled her resolve, but James had been there, so steady and sweet, that she had felt emboldened to kiss him. The fact that he kept it brief and light had helped wash most of her trepidation at the rest of the celebrations away. Not all of it, but enough that she was able to fight away the memory that the last time she had danced in the ball room it had been just before her world went to hell.    
  
The dance had been fun even, and the space he kept between them made it even better. That she could handle. Dancing was a step she could take. She wasn’t ready for more kissing or other things, but his hand on her waist wasn’t intimidating. It seemed to make him happy, and she was able to smile. Yet, when they broke apart to mingle, to accept congratulations, the nerves began again. So she grabbed a flute of champagne.    
  
Jack asked her to dance, as James twirled as laughing Juliza around the floor, and so Rose went. When the music ended, with her smiling as Jack shooed James from his own love, the tender smile her friends shared, the look of lovers, the panic set in again. The sun was setting as Rose filled her goblet a third time. Don’t drink anything. I want this night to be vivid for years to come.    
  
Rose shivered as the words filled her mind. James’ fingers brushed her spine as he filled his own. “Hey, you okay?” He whispered. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t let on what she was feeling. It would ruin the party.   
  
“Fine, just thirsty.” She managed to whisper back. “Think mum is ready for her turn dancing.” Feigning playfulness she pushes him away. “Get out of my head.” She growled to the snickering ghost, and defied him by quickly finishing the wine. It was working, and she breathed a sigh.    
  
Rose’s head felt pleasantly light, and the whispers in her mind grew further away. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before, drinking heavily enough to forget. Maybe it was the underlying fear of breaking the rule. Harold hadn’t liked it when she had more than a glass or two. She’d already had four, and when James extended his hand for another dance, a happy one, with upbeat tones and quick steps, she went.    
  
It was easier when she couldn’t think, didn’t have to worry about anything but staying upright. If James had noticed, he wasn’t mad that she had broken the two drink rule. Wait, no, he didn’t have rules for her. That was right. So when they split apart for him to have his third goblet, Rose happily let him fill her fifth. Then when he was chatting amiably with little Tony, Rose took a flute of champagne from her mother.    
  
The party became a blur. Rose laughed, danced, and let the joy of Yule help her loose herself. It was just a party, and James’ hand was steady and warm anytime their fingers laced together. He didn’t touch her otherwise, didn’t try to hold her or kiss her, and for a few brief hours Rose forgot what was coming. When the moon began trickling into the windows, and the music became softer, more intimate, it brought her back to the reality.    
  
“I think if you drink anymore, you’ll pass out before we make it to the stairs.” James chuckled, as he took her now empty goblet. Rose felt her breath catch at the amused smile on his face. Was it time already? No, she wasn’t ready. She needed more time, more wine.    
  
“I’m sorry.” She tried to smile back, and the inebriation of her mind made it easier to pretend. She hoped he would be gentle, but she knew she would cry. Rose let him take her hand, and though she longed to run for the safety of Juliza or Jack’s arms. “I was just having fun.”    
  
“I know. !” James waved as he led her into the hall. “It’s good to hear you laugh. I missed it.” Rose could feel everyone’s knowing, judging gazes on her. She had to do this, had to put aside what she was afraid of. They had one final step to officiating their marriage, and the world was spinning in and out of focus as they passed Jack and Juliza wrapped in a passionate embrace near the visitor’s library. James chuckled and held a finger to his lips, so as not to disturb them.    
  
Her legs gave out when they reached the doors, and Rose couldn’t speak as James lifted her into his arms with whispered assurances of how he had her, would always have her, would never let her be hurt. The first floor landing was in view, with its new door, and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for him to set her down. He kept climbing, and Rose couldn’t breath. Her whole body was trembling, and she couldn’t stop it because her mind was so cloudy. James nudged his door open, and Rose fisted his coat in her hands.    
  
She had to focus, had to prepare herself. Her shoes touched the rug that spanned the gap between his bed and the fireplace. The woodsy aroma of his aftershave and the musty smell of books mingled with the pleasant smell of the burning logs. “I’ll be right back, love.” James squeezed her fingers, and Rose was alone. He must have known she needed a moment to compose herself, because one look in the mirror showed she looked like a cornered rabbit chased by hounds.    
  
“It’s James, not Harold.” Rose murmured to herself, as she tossed her veil aside and lowered her crown to his dresser. There should be a box there, right? Her container for her herbs was there, with the cup and diffuser she used. No, because James didn’t have collars for her. “He won’t hurt me.” The words caught in her throat, as she reached back to untie her dress and step out of her shoes.    
  
Suddenly the bustier was too tight, too constricting. She took that off too, draping them across a heavy armchair filled with books. Rose turned, blinking at her double reflection in the mirror, trying to tell herself again that she could do this. It wouldn’t hurt. James wouldn’t hurt her. He’d be sweet, would take the time to make sure she was ready, accepting of him inside of her. A dark chuckle echoed in her ear, and phantom teeth bit into her neck. She could feel the monster thrust, and Rose squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself on the dresser. She couldn’t do this, and tears spilled down her cheeks.    
  
James took the time to relieve himself, strip out of his coat, and test the water in the tub to make sure the fires built under it didn’t have it too hot. Rose liked to soak in the tub, and after the activities of the party and the copious amount of wine and champagne she’d consumed, her body would thank her. As Juliza promised, she had left Rose a warm night dress folded beside the wash basin on the counter, along with some of her towels and her bathing oils.    
  
James planned on taking advantage of her bath to set up the extra blankets and pillows in the sitting room for him to sleep on, and to get the fire started there. There was no way Rose was ready for them to share a bed, and he was okay with that. They could spend the next two days just relaxing, reading, and talking. That was perfectly acceptable with him. They so rarely got privacy, and the next two days would be like a nice holiday of no worries. Maybe she’d be willing to talk some more, and maybe he would tell her about the things he’d been avoiding.    
  
Satisfied with the set up of the ensuite, James opened the door to tell his very drunk wife she could come in. Rose was so adorable when she drank, all smiles, and laughter. Oh how he’d missed that. He stepped into the bedroom, smiling to himself about how proud he was she had made it through the whole feast and ball without being afraid, and stumbled to a stop.    
  
Rose was leaning against his dresser, her whole body shaking, and she was absolutely naked. Her back was to him, and for the first time he saw them, the scars, the evidence of her torment. When he took it in, too stunned to look away, his eyes drifted down. The knife and whip scars ended where her rear began, and that skin was the flawless cream he remembered, except for one spot. There, on her right side, was a perfectly raised pink scar in the shape of Harold’s seal. His heart shattered as she gasped another trembling sob. “I just need a minute, please James.”    
  
“No.” James shook his head, and when she sank to her knees, he realized what he had done. Grabbing a blanket from the bed, he approached her kneeling form, and gently draped it over her. “You need about five years worth of minutes, and Rose that is perfectly fine.” Her drunken, tear filled eyes met his with shock, and he reached up to wipe her eyes.    
  
“You don’t want me to...” Her eyes flashed in horror at the bed, then back to him. James felt his own tears slip out at his stupidity for not telling her sooner, and he shook his head. “Thank you.” And it was his turn to gasp as Rose threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.   
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [James’ Outfit But With Blue](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/834995587132250762/)
> 
> [Rose’s Dress But With Blue](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/452259987562103128/?amp_client_id=2MvhrV2MZPQMqRZHe60UWX9nBl7FyQkiMNzaWf2Y65IU1Y90Cls7BeNwnuP_bl1O&mweb_unauth_id=b575dbc3280a372955f25022c553fac1)


	41. Chapter 41

“Didn’t fall asleep, did you?” James leaned against the door frame, as Rose had been silent for quite some town. After quite a bit of crying, then apologizing for getting her eye makeup and snot all over his shirt, and followed by her being absolutely mortified that she had just assumed he was going to ask her to do something that drastic, he had finally coaxed his blanket wrapped, far too inebriated, and hiccuping Rose into letting him carry her into the ensuite.    
  
That had started a whole other bout of crying when he offered to help her in and fetch her wash things. Apparently even being helped in the tub triggered bad memories, so he’d closed his eyes, held her steady until she was in the water, and then darted from the room. Once the door was almost completely closed, he’d made his bed, then settled onto the floor so she could see his leg but knew he couldn’t see her. Then he’d just rambled, talking about stupid things like how his knee hurt so it would probably snow tonight, or did she see the new foal in the stables, and when did she think Jack would propose to Juliza.    
  
“No, ‘m just... I can’t get...” Rose sounded adorably frustrated and slurred. “There’s so many pins in my hair.” The door fully opened, and James was treated to the sight of a freshly bathed and dressed Rose, pouting as she rested one hand on the counter beside the wash basin and pulled at the intricate updo with the other. “Help me.” She looked so put out by the way she could barely stand up straight, much less complete a simple task.   
  
“Oh, silly girl.” James pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand. “Give me your comb and brush.” Rose passed the items as she blinked up at him. “Come sit by the fire, and I’ll get you sorted.” This was a step, a big one, because touching her hair, much less being asked for help, was off limits. He knew it was the alcohol and the break down, but not helping her would be worse once she sobered up.    
  
“Room’s spinnin’.” She sniffled, and he chuckled as she staggered forward. James caught her by the elbow, guiding her to the living room where he had set up his bed. “What’s this?” She blinked, as he helped her down to sit before pulling a chair over to sit in and begin working her hair free.    
  
“Where I’ll be sleeping for the next few days.” He replied simply, shaking his head at the mess she had made in her drunken efforts. “You’ll have the bed until the lock in is over, and you can go back to your own.” James felt her jerk at the news, but she leaned back into his legs as she tucked hers up to her chin. “That all right?”    
  
“You mean, after the two days, I can go back to my room?” James made a confirming noise, as he freed two pins and set them aside on the armrest of the chair. Her hair was so soft, just like he remembered, and it slipped through his fingers as he worked. “You don’t want to sleep in the same bed as me?”    
  
“Of course I do.” Three more pins were pulled free, and James felt around for more. “Rose, I want to fall sleep every night with you and wake up every morning to your smile, but you don’t want that yet.” The pins were all gone, and he tilted her head forward gently so he could begin combing out the knots and tangles. “I love you, but I don’t expect you to do anything until you feel ready.”    
  
“I make you unhappy.” Rose didn’t like being the reason he was unhappy. James didn’t sound upset, as he gently combed her hair, but she knew he couldn’t be pleased with having her so shut off and cold. At least he wouldn’t punish her for it, so having her back to him wasn’t scary. In fact, the calm way he was talking to her, combing her tangles out with precise care, was pleasant. Vaguely she wondered if it was all of the alcohol.   
  
“No, you do not make me unhappy.” James’ soft sigh made her tilt her head back, and back, and back until his adoring smile and eyes swirled over her as her head rested on his knees. “I like taking care of you, working to help you feel better.” His lips twitched up into a playful smirk, one that bespoke amusement and not monstrous thoughts. “But I can’t sort your hair with you like this.”    
  
“Whoops.” Rose leaned forward again to let him resume his task. This was nice, she was surprised to find, just them, alone, with no expectations, just talking. Her head gave another spin. “I drank too much.” She whispered, as he steadied her with one leg. Then it hit her, in a torrent of flashes and memories that were hazy with wine. Harold had never done anything like this, not something so implicitly kind. He had nursed her when she was sick, yes, but only when he knew she was emotionally vulnerable, and always he used it to hurt her mentally.    
  
James was doing this because she had been frustrated, because the pins holding her hair up had been pricking her scalp and tangling her hair. He was getting nothing out of it. “I know you drank a lot, that’s why I didn’t. Nothing wrong with over indulging on Yule. You deserved it.” Her hair fell against her back with a soft bump. “Not the best plait in the world, but it still looks beautiful.”    
  
Rose turned herself on the piles of blankets and sheets to look up at James, who was carefully gathering each hair pin and tucking them into the bristles of her brush for safe keeping. “How’d you get it to stay.” She pulled the braid around and blinked in shock to see ribbon from their ceremony woven into the bottom portion of the plait and tied around the ends. “You kept it?”    
  
“Of course.” James chuckled at the way Rose toyed with the ribbon. He was struck again by how she was only four or so months shy of nineteen. In moments like this, when the horrors of her last year weren’t in her eyes, and she that she looked so much like the bright eyed girl he’d fallen so deeply in love with. “You aren’t going to be upset in the morning when you remember I touched your hair and leaned against my legs, are you?”    
  
“I don’ think so.” Rose looked down at her hands, fiddling with her dress, and it took all of his willpower to not just sprawl out next to her and pull her onto his chest. “I’m sorry I thought you were going to...” her voice trailed off, as her eyes looked up under her lashes with a timid frown, and then they were downcast again. “Did you... did you see?”    
  
James couldn’t lie to her, but he couldn’t talk down at her either. So, he lowered himself down to sit across from her, holding his palm out for her to lace hers with his. “I did, I’m sorry. I was so shocked by seeing you like that.” He didn’t want her to think about it, not now, not when they had just had such a big moment. Still, the red scar of the brand burned in his mind and it filled him with anger. If Harold wasn’t already dead and burned...    
  
“James, I... I’m...” Rose heaved a sigh, covering her face with her free hand, and James ached for her pain. “That brand isn’t the only one, and ‘m sorry, but you need to know. When when we, if we ever, if I’m ever okay enough to let you take me to bed, you should know ahead of time...”    
  
“Where?” James mind flurried with a thousand possibilities, but one seemed the most sickening. He didn’t think Harold would ever mar that particular part of her, but who knew. “Not...”    
  
“My thighs, both of them, inside just below...” Rose gave a violent shudder, as she whined into her palm. “It’s our wedding night, ‘n I’m just upsetting you. I’m sorry.”   
  
“Opening up doesn’t upset me, Rose.” James stroked her thumb with his. He wasn’t upset, not at her. He loved her trusting him enough to reveal such things. “It makes me feel like you’re trusting me more. I just wish I could hold you when you hurt is all.”    
  
“I just wish my skin wasn’t so ugly.” Oh, that was a new confession. She had never openly said they made her insecure. He knew they did, but hearing it was different. “It must have been repulsive to you.”    
  
“Are my scars repulsive?” James’ question made Rose uncover her face, and she watched in hazy consideration as he released her hand to pull his shirt off. The firelight and torch flames on the wall made the white lines and circles more pronounced, but they weren’t ugly. Each one told a story, spoke how he had endured torture but not betrayed his country.    
  
“No.” Rose whispered, and she found her eyes drawn to the burn scars on his ribs. Her hand extended shakily. “Hot irons?” She swallowed, and chanced pressing her fingers to one. It was raised, like her own, but had faded from pink to white overtime. Would hers?    
  
“Yes.” James took her hand in his, pressing it flat against the mark. “If Mine aren’t repulsive, how can yours be?” Rose could feel his steady heart thudding under her palm, and she looked up into his soft gaze. “Most people only have memories to tell what they’ve survived, Rose. We have proof, and we match. I think you are beautiful.”    
  
It took her a moment to realize she was actually touching him, full on, skin under her palms, and he was just letting her. James wasn’t pressing her for more, wasn’t touching her, wasn’t asking for anything. He was just there. It was wonderful, and terrifying at once. This was too much, too fast. “I can’t.” She yanked her hand back, floundering for something to say, anything to keep the memories from rolling in. She shouldn’t have pushed herself like this.    
  
“I should have stopped you. I’m sorry.” James could see that she had reached her limit, and he felt a twinge of guilt that he had let it carry so far. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk like this when you’re drunk. Let me help you into bed.” He knew when she got that look, the one that said she was on alert for danger, that she needed space.    
  
“Yeah, maybe I should lie down.” Rose stumbled to her feet, staggering away, and James followed her, just in case she tripped. Sure enough she stumbled to the side, and he caught her elbow. “Thanks.” She murmured, and mentally beating himself, James helped her to his bed and covered her up. “Can you put out the lamps?” She asked softly, rolling away from him and curling into a tight ball.    
  
“Of course love.” All he wanted to do was climb in next to her and hold her until she wasn’t dangerously lost in her thoughts, but that wasn’t allowed. So James snuffed out the lamps until the only light was the fire, which he added two fresh logs onto so it wouldn’t die in the night. “Want me to close the door?”    
  
“No!” Her shriek nearly made him trip over her shoes, and he wondered at that. James figured she would want an extra barrier between them. “Just... pull it half way. I don’t like closed bedchamber doors.” Right, she’s feel trapped. That was fine, he could do that. “Goodnight James.”    
  
“Goodnight, Rose.” Pulling the door halfway behind him, James made his way to his own makeshift bed. In the morning, he’d apologize for letting things go to far. It was his fault. He should have fixed her hair and insisted on her going to sleep. He had been so caught up in the moment, in how relaxed she finally was, that he had messed up. James hoped she could forgive him.    
  
Rose snuggled into the pillow, trying to ignore the way the room was tilting and twirling even when she was flat. The smell of James was everywhere, surrounding her as she pulled the blankets up to her chin. The last time she’d lain in this bed, she thought he was dead, and the memory came crashing so hard it hurt her stomach. How could she have loved him so fiercely before, and now be absolutely broken with a simple touch?   
  
The world didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Everything was upside down and twisted. All she wanted was for the fear and pain to go away. He was upset now, at himself, she knew. He had apologized, but it wasn’t his fault. It was her fault. She went too fast, wanting to remember what it felt like to not be scared, and now she couldn’t stop the panic. If there were nightmares, she had fo face them alone. She couldn’t run to Juliza or her parents asleep in the visitor wing. She would have to soothe herself. Fighting back fear, Rose let herself spiral down into dreams.    
  
The room was dark, except for the glow of the shrinking fire, when the pressing need to use the loo rescued Rose from the Kingswood attack. Panting, head pounding, cheeks soaked with tears, she stumbled from the bed to find the ensuite door. Once that was done, she stumbled to a confused stop when her bed was a bit too high, foo far left. Why were the curtains open, as the moon barely lit up snow drifting down?    
  
“Leave him alone!” The sound of James’ strangled cry made her jerk, and she remembered. She was in his room, and she was still half drunk, and he wasn’t in the bed. “No... don’t make me...” Rose remembered, as she calmed herself, that he was in the sitting room.    
  
“Nightmare.” She whispered, placing a hand against the wall as her head throbbed again. Why did she drink so much? That had been a bad idea. He was mumbling again, incoherent words, and she pushed the door open, blinking at the pile of blankets.    
  
James was panting, sweat gleaming on his face, face contorted in fear. James couldn’t be afraid. He was the strong one, the brave one. Seeing it on him was wrong, and Rose couldn’t stomach it. How could she be strong, beat her demons, if someone like him couldn’t? “James.” She staggered forward, shivering at the chill away from the fire, and knelt beside him. “James, wake up.” He gave a sharp gasp, head jerking to the side. “James, please wake up.” Hoping he wasn’t prone to lashing out, Rose touched his face softly. “James!” She spoke normally this time, like when she was trying to get his attention.    
  
“Rose?” He shot up to his elbows, blinking in confusion as he looked around. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry... I was.”    
  
“No, I was already up.” James rubbed his eyes as he took in her half awake face. She looked so worried, but not for herself. He had been in the Camp, and then suddenly her voice had shattered the vision. It was the most peaceful way he’d ever woken from it. “‘M gonna make some tea. My head hurts.”    
  
“No, sit. I’ll make it.” James kicked his covers aside, as he sat up and shook his head. As his sleep cleared, he saw Rose was trembling and looking very small and afraid. “You too?” She nodded silently, lowering herself to the floor and pulling one of the pillows to her chest to squeeze. “Well aren’t we a pair.” James squeezed her hand softly before stumbling to his feet to the dark dining area to fetch a kettle, some water from a jug, and the tray for tea.    
  
They sat in silence, as the water boiled, and he watched as she slowly pulled her braid around to fiddle with the ribbon. “The first winter he was back.” She sniffled, staring at the flames. “He paid two men to attack me in the Kingswood, to act like they were going to rape me. Then he killed them, beheaded them as he pretended to rescue me. I didn’t know until after... he bragged about it.”    
  
“If he wasn’t already dead, I’d...” James bit back his growl as she tensed. “Here.” He eased the kettle from the bar it was hanging on and filled their mugs. He added the honey, like he remembered she liked before bed, and added a lump of sugar to his own. “Once, the Daleks, they made me take a knife and cut Jack’s chest. Said if I didn’t they’d cut off his hand.” There, he’d finally told someone, and the guilt he’d harbored for it eased away.    
  
“That’s horrible.” Rose found his hand on the sheets, squeezing it. She hadn’t expected him to share, but she’d needed to tell him what the nightmare was. Somehow, telling him, it didn’t hurt so much. She sipped her tea, letting herself calm down at the feeling of safety of knowing he would never do something as horrible as Harold had.    
  
“Ready for bed again?” James took their empty cups, setting them aside, away from his makeshift bed. Rose didn’t like putting him out of his own, but she appreciated the forethought he put into everything he did for her. He looked as exhausted as she felt. At least her headache was fading.    
  
Normally by now, she’d be snuggled up with Juliza, but she couldn’t. “Can’t we just sit like this a bit longer?” Rose wasn’t ready to face the monsters again, no matter how tired she felt. “Unless you’re tired.”    
  
“I’m never too tired to hold your hand, Rose.” James lifted her fingers for a soft brush of his lips. “Just, seems we have made a habit of you falling asleep on my lap or my arm, and I don’t want you to wake up upset.” She felt herself smile and her cheeks warm as she recalled the night of the fire, then the balcony, and once two weeks ago when he was reading to her in the library, and she woke up to her head on his shoulder and him holding very, very still. She had felt safe enough to sleep then, so why did the thought of sharing a bed with him terrify her so much?    
  
“Guess we have.” Rose’s chuckle was heartwarming, as she looked down at their joined hands. James was honestly half gone with exhaustion, but her need for him to be there overpowered that. Her eyes brightened, as if a realization had come over her. “Be right back.” He didn’t even have time to protest before she half tripped over herself to dart to the bedroom, and returned laden down with pillows and blankets.    
  
“What’s all this?” James couldn’t stop himself from arching an eyebrow as she made a neat little nest for herself an arms length away from his own, but still in the warmth of the fire. She wasn’t planning on sleeping out here, with him? No, she couldn’t be, she wasn’t ready for that yet.    
  
“Beds, James... it’s sharing a bed with a man that makes me afraid.” Rose had that look on her face, the one that said she’d found another ‘little victory’, and his heart thrilled in excitement as she curled up into her own makeshift bed, and reached her hand across the open gap. “Hold my hand.”    
  
“Don’t have to ask me twice.” James burrowed back down into his own covers, turning to face her semi triumphant smile, and clasped her fingers in his. “Little victories.” He grinned at her, as she yawned widely. One day, he’d ask why she had started using that term.   
  
“They’re the best kind.” Rose hummed, and feeling happier and far safer than she had in months, she closed her eyes. When the nightmares came,and she wrenched herself awake to near dawn peeking in the frosted windows, James was shushing her drowsily, and she found his fingers again in the gray light, and didn’t wake for another three hours.   
  
  


 


	42. Chapter 42

Rose would never understand James’ fascination with playing with her hair, but she wasn’t complaining as He gently stroked it while she leaned sideways against the sofa and listened to him recount the story of the prison camp. He had seemed anxious about it at first, the story that is, but as soon as she had leaned her head against here his hand rested, the anxiety had dissipated.    
  
That had been their agreement for today, once their breakfast had been delivered, fresh bath water brought up, and more firewood stocked. They would talk about things that they could, and listen quietly while the other did. The midnight nightmare confessions had opened the door inside of Rose that had seemed impossible to unlock before, and she was ready to tell him some of the smaller things. “Honestly, the burns, they were the worst. They didn’t bleed, but they drained more than the cutting and beatings.” Those oceanic eyes met hers from where they had been staring at the wall, and his fingers stilled. “But you understand that, don’t you?”    
  
“Yeah.” Rose fiddled with her thumbnail. She had recounted the story of the first brand already, because she needed to assure James she didn’t blame him for following her into town that day. Neither of them could have predicted the extreme way Harold would have reacted. “Does your back ever ache, when the weather’s starting to change?”    
  
“As bad as spending two days on horseback.” James didn’t want to frown, because when he did, she did, and thus far he’d managed to keep that from happening. “But I’d take those twenty lashes all over again.” He wouldn’t change it, not just because it was in defense of Martha, but because somehow his own trauma had stirred Rose into finally lowering her guard. “Why did... what made him do it to you?”    
  
Rose had touched on the basics, the first night, the daily assaults, but the more disturbing parts had been left out. He hoped his question wasn’t too intrusive, but Rose exhaled heavily, and to his relief nudged his hand with the side of her head. Right, toying with her hair helped her talk. He wasn’t complaining, because he adored the way the silky strands shifted through his fingers. “That time was entirely my fault, and James, please don’t judge me for it.”    
  
“None of it was your fault, and I’d never, ever judge you.” James was nervous, because Rose had never outright claimed any of it was her own doing. Her face and tone implied she sometimes blamed herself, but he never once did.    
  
“It was...” Rose swallowed, her haunted eyes glancing down. This was going to be heavy, and James kept silent to let her gather herself. “My first cycle. He had warned me, ahead of time, that he wouldn’t have me that way when I was. So he brought in a handmaiden, took her in front of me.” James forced himself not to growl or grit his teeth. That made her skittish, so he picked a wave from her now loose braid and twirled it around his finger instead. “When he was done, he... made me... he said if I didn’t lick her clean, down there, he’d kill Tony. So, I did.” There was a shameful tone to her, and though James fury at his dead brother was broiling, he kept it restrained. Rose was talking, and he didn’t want her to stop. “That night, when I thought he was asleep. I had this stupid idea that if I died my parents would see my body for the prayer and washing. Dunno why, since I was married, and I, well, I took one of his daggers, climbed into the tub, and tried to slit my wrists. He stopped me, and then he gave me the lashing.” She peeked up through her lashes in that ashamed, nervous way, and James tried to show her he wasn’t judging her, didn’t find her weak, or at fault.    
  
“You reacted the same way as many of the others did.” Rose was doing her best to keep her own shame at her weakness and forced violation of her handmaiden from James’ eyes. Just remembering it, all the times, made her stomach roll. “You are not at fault for wanting to escape o to expose him. You were willing to die for even the smallest chance of bringing him down, and that is brave. You were so brave for all of it, Rose, that it astounds me.” How could he speak with so much love in his voice after hearing what she had been forced to do? She hated herself for it, for being too afraid for her brother’s death than to spare her handmaidens further humiliation and pain. “I’m still amazed you held out so long.”    
  
“Had to.” Rose took his unoccupied hand, needing to ground herself in the reality that was his strength. When she fully looked into his eyes, she could see how badly he ached to hold her, to squeeze her into his chest until her world stopped tumbling. He would never ask, though, and she wasn’t quite ready to feel arms around her like that. “Better me than some other poor girl. That’s what kept me from trying again, why I didn’t want to drown that day. Death didn’t scare me, but knowing that he would find a new victim did.”    
  
If James didn’t already love Rose, those words would have sealed it. She was so good, even after everything, she just wanted to protect people. “That right there, love, is why you make a wonderful queen.” The shameful look was replaced by one of humble embarrassment, and James chuckled as her cheeks flushed pink all the way to her ears. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked like that, how that small smile eased all of his worries and aches away. “And one of the many reasons I love you.”    
  
“You’re a good man too.” James felt his heart skip as Rose lifted their joined hands to kiss his fingers. She hadn’t done that before, and it sent a wave of warmth straight up his arm. “I wish....” her lip pouted as it always did when her thoughts were too jumbled to get out. “I wish I couldn’t still feel it or smell it. Comes out of nowhere, when I least expect it, and it makes me feel lost.”    
  
Rose heaved a sigh, as she stared to the right out of the window. The soft snow from the night before had turned into an intense storm, and she hoped it would pass in enough time for the guests to beat the next one coming from the north. It was a good thought to distract herself from the phantom aftershave that had just flooded her nostrils. The capitol had one, maybe two, blizzards a winter, but up north, beyond Powell, at his grandfather’s lands, they could get hit three or four times.    
  
Suddenly, she was drawn from her musings as something soft, warm, and radiating a musky, calming spice was draped over her head and around her shoulders, and Rose jerked in surprise as she realized James had stripped off his cream colored jumper and wrapped it around her like a hooded scarf. “There, hows that?” He was grinning like a loon, and Rose had to giggle as she reached up to pull a sleeve to her nose and inhale. It filled her, erasing the sickly, pungent memory of his brother, and she sighed in contentment. “Good.”    
  
Hang on, contentment. How could she have gone from being afraid Harold was about to yank her up from the sofa to feeling safe in only a way her father and Jack had thus far accomplished? Her unasked question was answered as James joined their hands again. He must have known from his own experiences. “What smells haunt you?” Rose liked, but didn’t like when he told his stories, his fears. She liked that he could relate on some level, but didn’t like how his face grew taut and his eyes went sort of hollow, like now.    
  
“There’s a certain scent that hangs onto a battlefield, not like the attack you were in before the war, but a real battle.” Rose watched as James shuddered from his head down to his legs, face twisting up in disgust. She wondered if that’s how she had looked, and maybe that’s how he’d known. “Sometimes it just smacks me in the face, and I’m there, picking through bodies, looking for survivors. I used to wish I had your perfume or something to help dispel it, and I thought maybe if you had mine, hoped really...” James was blushing, something Rose had never seen, and it was probably the most endearing thing she’d ever seen on his face. “Did it work.”    
  
“Yes.” Rose took another deep inhale of the material, and she was reminded of the day, the one where her life began turning upside down. She should tell him, to let him know. “The day I found out you died... well, you didn’t really die, but when Dad Brough the news, I came to your room and curled up in your bed. It didn’t smell like you anymore though, and I...” She chanced a look up, feeling suddenly sixteen and very overwhelmed by it all. “Sprinkled your after shave on your sheets and pillow, and I just laid in it, crying. Sarah Jane found me, and we slept there all night.” Oh how she missed Sarah Jane, how she wished she had lived to see James’ return. “I miss her so much.”    
  
“Me too.” James ran his thumb over hers, and the guilt began to creep in. It snuck up on her, seeping into her stomach and out into her veins like a poison. Rose felt her eyes sting. “No... no... Rose, you have to forgive yourself. It was him, not you.” He always said that, but he hadn’t been there, didn’t know the mistakes she had made. She caused it, poured the poison into her mouth. “She wanted you to choose her, Juliza told me. She’d rather have died seeing love in your eyes than being beaten for a week and beheaded. Nobody blames you, please, love, don’t blame yourself anymore.” James hand cupped her cheek, and Rose froze in the middle of her hundredth apology to him for killing his foster mother.     
  
It had come so suddenly, so tenderly, and so lightly that she didn’t even have time to flinch, cringe, or coil in on herself. His hands were warm, calloused from work, so much larger than Harold’s that they cradled the entire side of her face instead of just her cheek and jaw. It felt nothing like what she feared, and the sob that choked out of her was one of relief and not panic.    
  
When James made to pull away, his lips sputtering an apology that she couldn’t hear, Rose grabbed his wrist and pulled it back, closing her eyes, letting the way his thumb wiped her tears away ease the guilt and grief. These were hard working hands, good hands, kind hands that had slaved and protected and built things. They would never, hurt her. Even the one time they had, it had been out of fear of her safety from Harold. “The other.”    
  
James didn’t waste any time reaching up to caress Rose’s other cheek. The look of relief that had flooded her features, the way her worried, guilt ridden frown and eyes had turned to surprised but easy relaxation was too much to deny. Oh how he’d longed for this, for the permission to remember how his hands had once framed her when she was startled or laughing or half tipsy after a night of dinner and laughter when he bid her goodnight. He remembered exactly how she had liked it: soft, but steady, fingers tangled in her hair, thumbs stroking the delicate bones just below her eyes, and his little fingers resting along her jaw. “Do you remember?” He chanced the question, terrified she still had the memories buried away behind the lies, but hoping they were breaking through. “The first time I touched you like this-“    
  
“In the stables, the first time I rode Astraea. I didn’t even wait for the saddle, and I had climbed up on the fence. I took her for a ride around the grounds, and she loved the snow.” Rose was nuzzling her cheek into his palm, her words soft and nearly breathless as she whispered, those eyes he loved still closed but relaxing even more. “I came back, and you were laughing. Jack had joked there was no keeping me inside the walls now, and I slid down. I tripped over my own cloak, and you caught me. You brushed my hair back and asked me if I was happy. I told you I loved you for the first time.” Those golden eyes opened, and the softest of smiles let a sigh escape. “Then you cupped my face just like this, kissed my nose, and called me your precious girl.”   
  
“And you still are my precious girl.” James stroked her skin again, looking for that spark, that light in her eyes, the one that said she remembered just how much they had loved each other. It wasn’t there, but that was fine. It would be with time, and that day would be worth all of these moments. “My strong, precious girl, and I will keep reminding you of that every moment of every day until you feel it too.”    
  
“I kissed you yesterday.” Rose was staring at him with determination, the one that said she was going to push her limits too far, but James wasn’t about to let her send herself crawling back into her hole. “I  want to try-“ leaning in James silenced her with a small peck of a kiss to her nose. When she blinked at him in confusion, he did it again, and then she scrunched her face up exactly as she had done three years before, and he laughed as he pulled back. Rose bit at her lip, looking down and fiddling with her sleeves, but she didn’t pull away. “Maybe I can wait a little bit longer.”    
  
“I know.” James tilted her face back up as gently as he could. “When you can do it without looking like you’re about to march headlong into a legion of soldiers, then I’ll kiss you.” The thankful smile that parted her lips told him he had done exactly the right thing. “How about we stick with touching for now, love? Small steps, little victories, remember.” He lowered one hand to cup her fingers, slowly raising them to his own cheek. “If you can, Rose, why don’t we start here.”    
  
“Yeah.” Rose was relieved he had stopped her. She had been so caught up in the moment, in that untainted, blissful memory, that she had wanted to do something about the way he was staring at her with that look that he wanted more. James wouldn’t ask for it, ever, but that’s why this was okay. That was why she could stroke her fingers along his jaw, feeling the days growth of stubble on his skin.    
  
She didn’t love him, but the last few hours since breakfast had further eased the underlying fears of being locked in with him. She had been so drunk last night, that when she had initially woken up that morning the fears had begun building again. Now, wrapped in his jumper, arms brushing as her fingers mapped the long forgotten lines of his face, she felt no guilt, and far more safe than when she had woken up. “I like the stubble.” She smiled, as he huffed a laugh. She didn’t tell him it was mostly because it was different than Harold’s obsession with perfectly smooth cheeks. It was also, in a small part, because it made his jaw look more pronounced and paired well with his proud nose. He really was an attractive man, but she had to keep those thoughts aside. Little steps first.    
  
“Want me to grow a beard?” James’ chuckle vibrated pleasantly under her fingers, as Rose followed the rough hairs to his chin. She knew if she said yes, he’d go chuck his razor into a drawer never to be seen again. So she shook her head, because she didn’t want it much longer than this. The stubble made a nice path up his jaw in front of his ears, so she explored it. She used to like tracing his ears when they cuddled in the library or under the tree in the garden, because he was ticklish. Her fingers were about to see if she still liked it when her more experienced mind realized he hadn’t been ticklish at all. The playful huff and removal of her fingers had been because she was arousing him. Quickly, her fingers went up to trace his brooding brow. “What was that look?”    
  
“What look?” Rose’s voice was absentminded, as her fingers sent waves of warmth and joy along his skin. She had paused, just where his barely grown sideburns framed his ears, and she’d flitted a flush of embarrassment and worried her lip for about four seconds before continuing upwards. “‘M just looking at you, James.”   
  
“You were looking at my ears, and blushed?” James kept his voice open and teasing. Yet, the blush deepened, and her fingers faltered, but they didn’t leave his face. He paused in his own mapping of the skin below that lower lip he wished he could taste again. “Don’t like them anymore? You used to say they balanced out my nose.” Honestly he had always been self conscious about both of those things, but Rose had squashed that the first time he’d mentioned it.    
  
“Youwerentticklish.” She stuttered the words so fast James didn’t catch them, and he arched an eyebrow under her ring finger, which only served to turn her the brightest red he’d ever seen as she dropped her hands to his lap and made the cutest noise he had ever heard come from her, something between a squeak and a whimper. “You weren’t ticklish.”    
  
“What do you...” James let his question trail off as he recalled a rare moment stolen out of Sarah Jane’s constant watch. He was reclining on the sofa on the third floor of the library, feet up on the table, book in one hand, and the other wrapped around Rose’s waist. He had been trying to read her a story about an adventurer with an enchanted horse, while she curled one hand over his heart, traced her finger along his ear, and her breath sent warm, happy sighs across his neck. It had been very distracting, because her lips were so close, and her fingers were so soft and teasing, that the words were going out of focus as his blood began slowly flowing away from his brain. He had stopped her, feigning a laugh, saying he was ticklish. “Oh... that... no. I wasn’t ticklish.” He felt his own cheeks flush in embarrassment that she had finally caught on to what had been happening.    
  
“You were always so sweet about things like that.” Rose had that lost in thought look again, but this time it wasn’t anxious or concentrated. It was like watching her trying to recall an exact color when she painted, or tune when she was singing. “You never pinned me into a wall or tree or anything. You always pulled me in.” It took him a moment to realize she meant when he kissed her. He had thought about it, but not in an aggressive way, more in a give her something to lean against so his hands were free to touch her hair and face when they’d kiss. He was suddenly glad he never had, as she shook her head and rolled her wrists on top of his knee.    
  
“Why would I do that, when it felt so much better wrapping you in my arms?” Rose had always fit so perfectly against him, her waist almost naturally formed to be framed by his arms, and her own had always felt so wonderful draped over his shoulders. “I liked being able to lift you up and make you giggle afterwards.” The thinking looked disappeared, with only the smallest of shadows, and like sun parting the storm outside, his favorite smile lit up the room.    
  
“Yes, you did.” Rose’s eyes and nose crinkled just a bit as she made a pleased noise. Apparently she had made another little victory, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what. A knock broke their bubble of isolation, announcing the arrival of their late lunch. “I’ll get it!” Rose exclaimed, and was off the couch before he could move. His jumper smacked him in the face as she threw it back at him, and he tugged it on. It smelled a bit like lavender and vanilla now, and he breathed it in before standing.    
  
As Juliza and a trio of kitchen maids carried in the delicious smelling meal, he realized that Rose had made it almost an hour and a half without frowning, without flinching, and without recoiling. Juliza set down the wine and bread, and when she gave him a questioning look over Rose’s shoulder, he grinned out his delight. Rose was finally opening herself up to heal.    
  
  
  
  
  


 


	43. Chapter 43

Rose stared at James, as he slowly stirred. She’d been awake for a while, but he had been sleeping so calmly that she hadn’t wanted to wake him and ask for him to calm her down. Just waking up and finding it was his hand tangled in her hair and not Harold’s had been enough, so she’d gently freed it and eased it back across the space between their individual blanket nests. Then she’d sat up in the firelight and studied him.    
  
Awake, James looked like he was beyond his almost thirty years, despite the comforts of being back in the lap of luxury. Asleep, though, everything about him softened, erasing the wear from the sea, battle, and enslavement. He looked like she remembered. It was taking a lot for her to dredge up the old memories, after months of them being twisted and marred. Some parts of her wanted to remember how it felt when she loved him, but other parts told her that those were the days of naivety and stupidity. That’s what she had been contemplating when James had startled to mumble in his sleep. It wasn’t a nightmare, which was obvious by the lack of strain on his face, but then he’d said “Anthea, love, come here.” As plain as day.    
  
That had confused her, because she’d never heard the name of any woman called Anthea. Who was he, and why did he call her love? How many times had he assured her she was the only woman he’d loved? Had he been lying? Yet, she still didn’t wake him, although James had obviously been bothered by something else, because shortly after he had begun to stir. Now he was fumbling his hand across the floor, as if searching for her, but Rose didn’t take it. “Rose...” he mumbled, lifting his head to blink at her empty pillow. “Rose?!” He was up, and his panic filled eyes relaxed as soon as he saw her. “What’s wrong, love? Nightmare?” His voice was gravely and slurred as he yawned and rubbed his head.    
  
“Yeah, about an hour ago.” Rose’s cautious voice woke James up even more than the fear of her being gone when her spot was empty had. She had her knees tucked under her chin, and a blanket wrapped around her. In the firelight, James could see that look, the one that said she wasn’t sure if she trusted him. He hadn’t seen it all day, and now it was back. “Who’s Anthea?” How did she know that name? He’d never said it and he’d sworn Jack and Martha to secrecy. He had told Rose Harold had a daughter, but never spoke about it since.    
  
“Harold’s daughter, the one from the ship.” James crossed his legs and pulled his own blanket around him, watching as she took in the information with furrowed eyes and a look that said she was trying to figure out if he was lying. “I never told you her name...”    
  
“You talk in your sleep.” Rose gave a heavy exhale. “Honestly, I forgot all about her.” Then she groaned and covered her face. “Damn it James. Harold has an heir. What if-”   
  
“Conceived by rape and out of wedlock.” James shook his head as he caught her line of thinking. Anthea may be a Saxon by blood, but the Council would never recognize her as heir. “And currently living well to do as a silk merchant’s daughter in Skaro.” Rose lowered her hands, looking somewhat relieved but still worried. “The only Gallifreyans who know she exists are us, Jack, and Martha.”    
  
“She’s your niece.” Rose knew that family meant a lot to him, as it did to her. How could she have forgotten her own step-daughter, who was now technically her niece by law? Her mind was spinning. “Don’t you want her here with you?” Now that she remembered the little girl existed, she wondered why James hadn’t mentioned her in the last two and a half months?    
  
“I love her, but I didn’t want to bring her into what he left behind. Think about it Rose, would you want to know that your mum birthed you because of a rapist and that she was killed to keep it silent? Would you want his reputation as your heritage?” James didn’t sound exasperated or frustrated. He sounded calm and logical. “I was going to find a way to check on her come spring. I wasn’t going to just abandon her. Thea has a family, parents raising her as their own. If she’s safe, happy, loved, and cared for, why ruin it?”    
  
“Yeah.” Rose knew he was right. She already had Harold’s crimes haunting her. How could she force that upon a child, condemn her to a life of living in the shadows of the horrors? “We should at least take care of her somehow.” It didn’t seem right just to abandon James’ niece like that, even if Rose wanted no more reminders of Harold. Right now thinking about this mad her head hurt.    
  
“I already planned that, love. Anonymous gifts, money for her future dowry, and even ordering some of the more expensive silks from them over the years.” James had thought long and hard about this over the last few months, and he’s been planning on bringing it up once things had settled down more. This was the last thing Rose needed to be worrying about. Anthea was his responsibility, not hers. “I want her to be happy. Don’t you?”    
  
“You’re right.” Rose lowered her legs and took his hand gently. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up.” She didn’t look very relaxed, in fact, she looked like she was halfway into shutting down. James wasn’t about to let that happen, not after such a wonderful day, not after her falling asleep with him stroking her hair.    
  
He took her other hand, and kissed her fingers softly on each. “I love that you were worried. You care about her, and you’ve never met her.” Rose’s amber eyes were almost wolfish yellow in the firelight, and James found himself drawn into the gleam. “I just wish sometimes you wouldn’t pull everything onto your own shoulders. Let me carry some of it too.”    
  
“It helps me when I worry about others, because then I don’t think about...” Rose let her voice trail off. Now that James had stolen her distraction, her mind was recalling the nightmare, of Harold’s hand around her throat, of his teeth sinking into her shoulder. The room began shrinking again, closing her in, and it was so hard to breathe. Suddenly her face was cupped in rough hands, tilting up, as not Harold’s eyes swam into focus.    
  
“Focus on me, Rose. I’m here, I’ll always be here.” James’s voice was gentle, as it seeped into her ringing ears. Rose tried to calm down, to focus, but it was hard. She needed a distraction, to help someone or protect someone. That’s when she was strong. That’s when she could handle this. “Stop being strong for one night, and let me worry about things.” How could she do that? How could she not worry about everyone else? It’s all she knew how to do to keep from cracking. “You aren’t alone in this anymore. I’m your husband, and that means we help each other.”    
  
“How?” At that one word, James saw what he had been missing all along. Rose honestly didn’t know how to cope with it all when she didn’t have someone else to worry about. Everything she had done and endured had been because if she gave up, she’d cause other people harm. His small steps with helping her had all stemmed from his experiences, come after he’d spoken or related his issues. He’d been giving her things to worry about him over.   
  
“Well you can start by remembering that for another whole day it’s just us.” James wasn’t frustrated with her in the least. He was frustrated with himself for not knowing how to help her. It seemed every time they took a step forward, they stumbled back three. Right now, Rose needed to rest. She was tired, and he knew she would fight sleep if he let her. How many times had he done the same? “I’m not saying give up all control, Rose, but just for tonight and tomorrow, let just a little bit of the worry go. You can’t protect others if you’re exhausted and overwhelmed, love.”    
  
“Don’t wanna sleep.” Rose shook her head. She understood what James was saying, that he was ready to take some of what she was holding inside and carry it for her, but if she did, she would be weak, be vulnerable. She didn’t want to feel that way. “You sleep, I’ll be fine. I can read or something.” She hated how helpless he looked, as he massaged her hands. Rose knew James just wanted to help, and he had been. He had enough of his own issues, his own demons, to fight. She wouldn’t ask him to take hers.    
  
“If you’re awake, I’m awake, because I can’t sleep if I’m worried about you.” James whispered softly, and Rose could see he meant it. He always worried about her, always had. From stopping by her room when she was thirteen on his journey home just to give her a book when she was sick, to fussing at her for disappearing into town without an escort four months into coming to court, to wanting to tend to cut wounds on her arms, and finally to willingly offering to renounce his own crown to keep her as queen. “In sickness and in health, Rose. I vowed it.”    
  
James loved her, truly loved her, like Juliza loved Jack and Jack loved her, like her parents loved each other. She could give him just a little piece, just a sliver of her pain. She wasn’t ready to relinquish it all, but maybe enough to ease the vice grip on her chest. “Okay, sleep. We can sleep.” The relief on his face was immense, and Rose lowered herself back down to her blankets and pillows. James did the same, rolling onto his side to face her, and Rose clung to his hand as she stared into his eyes. “Just don’t let go of my hand.”    
  
“Never again.” James smiled as his words eased the tightness around Rose’s eyes. An idea came to his mind, and he wondered why he didn’t think of it before. “Why don’t we ask your mum and dad to send a wolf or two down when they get back. You slept best when Seren or Meallán was in your room.” Rose’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he chuckled. “You may be my wife, but you’ll always be a wolf too.”   
  
“I’d like that.” Rose’s thumb ghosted over his, and James could practically see her mind whirring as it began putting him back into her trusting thoughts again. “Meallán liked you. He never likes anyone but our family.” She was quiet for a moment, and then James held his breath as she shifted her blankets and pillows just a bit closer, until Rose’s free hand rested on his cheek. There was still a gap of floor between them, but now only half the size it had been. “Sweet dreams, James.” Her words, so different than the normal goodnight, paired by the decreased gap told him they’d made another step forward.    
  
“Sweet dreams, Rose.” James lifted their joined fingers to brush her eyelids closed. “I’ll be here, when you need me.” That was  the only way he could tell her to feel free to wake him back up if she had another nightmare, and her sleepy smile as her whole body relaxed under the blanket said she knew what he meant. Then he gave into sleep again himself, Rose’s limp hand on his cheek keeping his own demons at bay.    
  
Just like James had promised, when Rose jerked awake after hardly sleeping, his face was the only thing she saw. The relief at seeing his parted lips as he snored, instead of Harold’s sickening smile, helped her relax almost immediately. It had felt completely fine to lift her pillow, place it over the crook elbow, and snuggle back into it. From here, she could smell his aftershave, though they weren’t touching or cuddling. That would come, with time, she knew. For now, she set her worry aside, and let the sound of his breathing lull her back into dreamless slumber.    
  
  
  


 


	44. Chapter 44

Rose looked up as her office door opened and James came in carrying a scroll. He was smiling at her in that way, the one that said he was about to give her good news. Three weeks and four days, they had been married, and this was the first time he’d come into her office without knocking. Sometimes it was like he knew exactly when her mind was darkening, even if he was in a totally different room. “Hello beautiful.” He came to the front of her desk, and Rose smiled back as he reached out to caress her face with a finger. “Mind if I ask you to sign and seal this for me. It needs us both.”    
  
“Not unless I read it.” Rose plucked the scroll from his fingers as he passed it to her, unrolling it. She didn’t think he would ever try to pull something over on her, but she could never be too careful. “A new law?” They hadn’t discussed any proposals in the meeting, so she began carefully reading each line in his neat, looping script. Five in, she felt her heart swell. It was a law to make spousal abuse illegal kingdom wide, and not just at the discretion of the Lord of whatever land they resided in. “James...” she looked up, breath catching as she read through. It was written in such a way that nobody was exempt, even nobility.    
  
“I’ve been reviewing the law books, and I found that this one was sorely neglected.” He rubbed his ear like he sometimes did when he wasn’t sure if he had made things worse or better. “I think this is one time we can use affirmative action and bypass the council.” Rose couldn’t agree more, and she quickly dipped her quill into the ink and scrawled her signature. Then she dribbled wax onto the paper and stamped it with fervor.    
  
“You amaze me sometimes.” Rose’s words were accompanied with her standing up and coming around the desk. James had known this would please her, but that wasn’t the only reason he’d done it. He’d heard about how she had saved women while trapped herself, and he decided that being granted divorces wasn’t enough. There needed to be real change, and it had to start at the top. “Do you have any idea how much I needed this to happen right now?”    
  
Honestly he didn’t. Yet, beyond her he saw a makeup stained handkerchief on her desk, and just in the corner of her eye was a smear. Rose must have been having a hard moment, and it hurt him that she hadn’t asked for him. Then again,  he knew sometimes she needed solitude. “No, I just-“ his words were cut off as she wrapped her arms around his chest and pressed her face into his coat. This was new, and for a moment he was shocked. They hadn’t even shared a room since those two days, and only last week had she taken to looping her arm through his. “Pretty bad I guess.” He hummed, heart swelling in delight as he encircled his arms around her and held her gently to him.    
  
“Thank you.” Rose hadn’t intended on hugging him. It had just happened. She’d been about to take his hand, but suddenly the need to feel her arms around him had taken over. He was so solid, so warm, and now that her face was pressed into him, his scent and loving touch was fighting off the dark clouds in her mind. She breathed it in, adoring how though he was holding her too, his grip was loose enough she could slip out.    
  
“I’ve missed this.” James’ sigh as he kissed the top of her head and ran his thumb across the back of her dress helped her relax even more. It felt good, safe, and she had really, really needed to feel all of that. Honestly, she had too, just a bit. The longer she spent free, the more he reminded her of their times together before, the easier it became to separate what was an honest truth, and what was a Harold truth. She squeezed him tighter, trying to recall the last time they had hugged. It had been the morning he left for war. Rose looked up, finding him gazing down at her with that happy grin. That grin always reminded her that James was happy just being with her, and he would never push her.    
  
“Me too.” James felt his smile broaden as Rose spoke. He had half expected her to pull away, but Rose had that relieved look on her face, the one that said she’d found this was something she could enjoy. Then her eyebrows went up, and she gasped. “James, I forgot to tell you. Jack wants to have dinner with us tonight.”    
  
“Did he say why?” James was reluctant to release Rose, but he didn’t even have time to frown before her arm was through his. Normally Jack at with Juliza, or his men, unless they requested he join them, and he was a bit confused that Jack had asked Rose and not him.    
  
“Nope.” Rose didn’t want to keep their friend waiting though, so she let James lead her into the hall where she passed the scroll to Frederickson. “Before you end your shift, can you give this to the scribes to copy and send out immediately.”    
  
“Yes, your Grace.” Frederickson snapped to attention, before bowing and disappearing. Rose was glad he had agreed to stay, and she was even more pleased when he had accepted her request to be in her personal guard. He had been oblivious as the other few men had been, but apparently had joined right in with her father’s bannermen as soon as he heard why they were fighting.    
  
Due to them both spending time in town, that morning, catching up on their reviews and reports had taken them all the way to almost sun down. Rose had told Jack to meet them in James’ dining room, as it was a bit inconvenient to make them scale to her fourth floor and then back down after. “Your room.” She advised as they headed down the stair to the inner courtyard. She also had big news for James, well not that anyone else would think it was big, but he would. “I haven’t had a nightmare in two nights.” If she had, she didn’t remember waking up.    
  
“That’s fantastic.” James had to stop and scoop Rose into another hug. He didn’t even stop to wonder if it would be okay, because she gave a happy hum as she pressed her face into his shoulder. He knew the nightmares weren’t gone, but the fact that they were finally starting to skip was heartening. Her stomach gave an adorable growl, so he released her with  a smile. “Time to feed you.”    
  
“Please.” Rose flashed him his favorite smile, as he pushed open the door to the royal wing. He waited for the tension that always came when she passed the first floor landing, and leaned down to kiss her hair as it began. “Thank you.” James had learned that sometimes all she needed was something that simple, no extravagant explanations or desperate attempts to distract her. Sometimes she just needed to be reminded that those were memories, and this was the present.    
  
Rose let him open the door to his room, and she grinned as she saw Jack already in the dining room. “Sorry we’re late.” She released James’ arm to settle into what had become her chair. She liked this one, because it was cushioned and matched James’ in size. He wanted her as an equal, not a toy or a slave, and little things like that reminded her. “So...” she let her voice trail off as she filled her goblet with wine. This one was pink, and nowhere near as sweet as the one she had ordered every bottle of destroyed.    
  
“What’s with the special request dinner.” James knew Jack, had spent years with him growing up, and every day with him for two years on a ship. Jack looked nervous, and he never looked nervous. He lifted the tray cover off of the food, scooping his and Rose’s favorite chowder into a bowl for her, and then passing her a slice of the succulent looking turkey that came with it. Then he fixed his own, as she seemed to be examining Jack’s nervousness herself.    
  
“Well, I wanted to do this the right way.” Jack was serving himself a slice of meat and helping himself to the roasted vegetables with it. “Juliza doesn’t have any living relatives, but I know Rose loves her like a sister.” James froze with his fork halfway to his mouth as Jack actually blushed. Jack bloody Harkness, expert at all things sexual, lord of loose behavior was blushing.    
  
“You absolutely have my blessing.” Rose squealed, literally, and James finally realized what was going on as she jumped out of her seat to hug their friend, who looked a bit shocked at her words. Jack was going to, or maybe had proposed to Juliza. “Does she know?” James grinned, taking a bite of his food as Jack’s blush faded and Rose returned to her seat.   
  
“Not yet.” Jack shook his head, but was grinning. “And don’t say anything. I’m planning something special.” James had to admit he would have been worried if it was any other woman, but he knew that Juliza shared Jack’s taste when it came to certain aspects of a relationship. Rose had spilled that secret already.    
  
“I won’t say a word, but tell her not to worry about the ceremony. We’ll cover everything her family would.” James assured him, and he didn’t think he’d seen Rose look so happy since he came home. She was all smiles and giggles for the rest of dinner. He had no problem stepping in for their friends, especially not after everything they both had done.    
  
When Jack bid them goodnight, the food had been all but consumed, and Rose was feeling pleasantly tipsy. She wasn’t drunk, because that wasn’t happening for her again anytime soon. She was just feeling giddy and relaxed. She knew Juliza would say yes, because the woman was arse over tea kettle for Jack, and she knew Jack felt the same. She found she was loathed to leave James’ arms, as he seemed to be extremely pleased with being able to hug her. Yet, she was tired. “Join me for breakfast?” She asked, resting her chin on his chest as she grinned up at him.    
  
“I’ll bring the tray up myself, if you want.” James tightened one arm around her waist in a sweet way, as his other hand brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. She knew that look in his eyes, knew he wanted to kiss her, but she wasn’t quite there yet. “How would you like to go visit your parents in the spring? You haven’t been to the manor since you were fifteen.”    
  
“Why don’t we invite them, Grandad, Aunt Sylvia, Donna, and Lee to the hunting castle?” James had to admit that was a much better idea. Donna and Lee had come down to see them a week after Harold was executed, but hadn’t stayed long in order to beat the snows back home. “Make a week or two of it. I think we’ve earned it.”  He wondered if she knew how absolutely tempting she looked with her tongue wedged between her teeth like that, but he refused to give into his desire to taste her lips.    
  
“Great ideas like that are why I love you.” James reluctantly released her when her smile gave way to a stifled yawn. Oh how he wished she would stay. He hadn’t asked, because he wanted it to be her decision. Those two nights curled up on the floor holding her hands had been his best sleep in years, and Rose had seemed a bit more open those mornings. “But you’re tired, so off to bed Rose.”    
  
“Sweet dreams.” Rose squeezed James’ hands before he leaned against the doorframe and watched her ascend the stairs. She half expected him to ask her to stay, but he hadn’t. It unnerved her a bit that she had thought something like that, because they hadn’t even talked About sharing a bed yet.    
  
It wasn’t until she had stripped out of her clothes, into her night dress, and snuggled up under her blankets to read a bit to relax, that she realized she had gone through all of dinner, the prolonged hug, until that moment without feeling panicked or anxious. In fact, she’d only had four moments all day. “Progress is progress.” She hummed to herself.    
  
Rose knew that she wasn’t fully ‘better’, and that was something she had slowly come to accept. Having her friends and James helped immensely, because they understood she had to move at her own pace. Things like Jack wanting to propose to Juliza reminded her that the world wasn’t all horrible, that different people healed at different paces. It was that happy little blip of normalcy that helped her drift off to sleep without fear.   
  
The castle was silent and dark as Rose made her way down the main hall. Here and there a torch flickered dimly, but their flames didn’t give off much light or any warmth. “Hello?!” She called, as she squinted into the shadows. There was no answer. “Anybody?!” Even in the dead of night, somebody was awake, somebody would have heeded her call.    
  
_ The hallway seemed to stretch forever, the  doors that lead to the foyer growing smaller and smaller as she walked. A chuckle filled the space behind her, dark and possessive as it sent chills down her spine. “No!” Rose tried to run, tried to reach the doors. She’d be safe if she got through them, because his games were never allowed there. “Go away!”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Never.” Came the growl, closer, almost reaching her. Rose ran harder, panting, pleading with the doors to stop moving away. There was a light beyond them, and shadows moving. The shadows didn’t scare her. The shadows were friends, and one had kind blue eyes and a toothy smile. “You’re mine, forever!”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “You’re dead!” Rose screamed, hoping that someone, anyone heard her. Then again, why would they come. Nobody ever came. “You’re dead! I watched you die!” Her feet felt like lead, and the harder she moved them, the slower everything seemed to move. He was laughing again, cold fingers trailing up her bare arms.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I said go away!” Rose stopped running, spinning on her monster, looking for him in the dark. Help would come, it had come before. “You’re dead, Harry! Dead!” A different kind of growl started up behind her, as Harold’s demonic grin materialized in front of her. This time the growl was feral, deep, threatening, and fur was under her fingers. Rose looked down to find a golden wolf snarling at Harold, hackles raised, poised to strike. “Kill him, girl!” She ordered, and the wolf lunged for his throat.  _ __   
  
Rose sat up with a gasp, clutching her chest as she blinked into the dim room. The fire was nearly out, leaving the winter chill slowly building in the absence of flames. “I’m safe.” She breathed, trying to shake off her nightmare. She ran a hand through her hair, half expecting the wolf to be by her bed. Where had she even come from? She’d never had a golden wolf before? “I’m not crying.” The realization cut through the sleepy confusion, as she wiped her cheeks out of habit. Why weren’t they wet?    
  
Shivering, Rose tried to lay back down, tried to get comfortable, but the bed felt too large, too empty, and the castle was far too quiet. She needed someone else with her. Out of months of habit, Rose slipped from her bed and grabbed her dressing robe, then she stole from the room to find Juliza The stairs were freezing under her feet, as she passed Harold’s old room, down to James’ landing, and then down three more steps before she froze in place. She had someone, right there. Someone who needed to hold as much as she needed to be held.    
  
Rose debated with herself, because she wasn’t sure if she could take that step. This was more than a hug or clasped hands. This was sharing a bed, leaving herself vulnerable to waking up completely entangled in his arms. Not that she hadn’t woken up entangled in bodies before. Last week Jack had opened Juliza’s door, dressed thankfully, but he’d just blinked at her half asleep and shrugged before he curled back up behind Juliza while Rose snuggled in front of her.    
  
This was different though. This was James, the man who loved her, had loved her for nearly four years. The man she was struggling so hard to let in. He wouldn’t seek more, and maybe she could sneak in without waking him. Rose could do this. He wouldn’t hurt her. He would keep her warm. She was freezing out here, and swallowing she tiptoed back up to turn the knob.    
  
Thankfully it was unlocked, and she opened it just enough to slip in. The fire in his room flickered through the open door there. Obviously he had been up some time to add another log or two. Half holding her breath, Rose shed her dressing gown as she crept her way towards him. He was on his back, one arm under his head and the other on his stomach. She exhaled quietly, as she made her way gently around to the other side, relieved at the warmth in the room.    
  
James had been nearly back to sleep, after waking up for a groggy trip to the en suite and to add wood to the fire. He had heard Rose shout, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to go up to her, which pained him to no end. Just as he had laid back down, he had relaxed when he heard her door open and shut two floors up, and the sound of her half running down the stairs. This was a normal occurrence, and he knew she would be in her room like she hadn’t spent the night with Juliza. Though, he had been waiting patiently for the night when she sought him out instead.    
  
The night seemed to have arrived, when his main door creaked open for two heartbeats and then shut again. James did his best not to chuckle, as he kept his eyes closed, while Rose did her best to tiptoe into his room. She wasn’t anywhere near as quiet as she was probably trying to be, what with her teeth chattering and her dressing robe thudding on the chair. He forced his breathing to remain even, as she turned the blankets back and crawled up under them. Her breathing was heavy, and he could feel her shivering even with the gap between them.    
  
The desire to hear her voice, to feel her fingers in his was too much to deny, so he opened his eyes and turned his head, smiling lovingly at the woman curled up facing him. “Good thing you’re Queen, because you make too much noise to be a burglar.” He chuckled, moving his hand off of his stomach to take hers.    
  
“I thought you were asleep.” Rose looked a bit embarrassed at being caught sneaking into his bed, but to his relief she didn’t leave. She just covered their joined hands with her other one. “What woke you up? The door?” He didn’t know why she was whispering, since they were alone, but he didn’t care. Rose was in his bed. She’d come to him, and this was so momentous he felt like he should be waving banners and throwing a parade.    
  
“Your scream, but I was waiting to hear you go to Juliza before I fell back asleep.” James rolled over, so he could stroke her cheek with the hand that had been under her head. “I wanted to come up but last time you threw a book at me.” he sighed, as she shifted her legs and frowned slightly. It had been his fault for grabbing her that one and only time he’d raced up to her screams. “But this is perfect.”    
  
“I fought back.” Rose whispered, her frown turning up just a bit. James relaxed, pride filling his chest at her accomplishment in a dream. “I was scared, but I fought back, and there was a wolf. I told her to attack him.” James brushed his thumb along her cheek, pleased that it wasn’t sticky or damp with tears.    
  
“I’m so proud of you love.” James returned Rose’s smile as it spread over her face. “Would you like me to stroke your hair until you fall back asleep?” He was exhausted, but if she asked he would. Her response sent his brain on a whirlwind ride.    
  
“Could you maybe...” Rose was so nervous to ask, but now that she was there, in James’ bed, with him smiling like that, all adoring and sleepy, and innocent, she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t just ready, but she needed to take this step. “Hold me for a while?”    
  
She waited for the panic as She scooted closer to him, but before it could flare, she was surrounded by the smell of James’ aftershave as he tucked her into his side, her cheek on his shoulder. One of his arms curled under her, around her back, to rub her arm gently, and the other hand was lacing with hers on his cheek. This felt nothing like Harold, because James was still giving her the space and freedom to run. “I’ll hold you forever.” James promised, as he had so many times. “I love you.”    
  
“Sweet dreams.” Rose yawned, as the warmth and safety of him relaxed her back to sleep. She had done it, and it didn’t feel wrong at all. She felt truly loved.    
  
“Sweet dreams.” James kissed the top of her hair as he closed his eyes. He was holding Rose, and she was falling asleep in his arms. He hoped this meant she’d be there more often, because he never wanted to spend another night without her.

 


	45. Chapter 45

When Rose slowly crawled her way out of sleep, she groaned inwardly and swallowed. An arm was draped over her, one leg wedged between hers, and a solid chest was pressed against her back. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her fingers in the blankets, because in a moment she would be rolled onto her stomach. She felt heart sinking as she waited for the feeling of Harold’s arousal to press against her bare rear, except she wasn’t bare under the sheets.    
  
Her night dress was bunched between her thighs, and the laces of the front were brushing her lips. The hand pressed against her stomach was blocked by material, and it was rubbing soothing circles just below her ribs. Despite the leg between her calves, there was nothing against her rear but her own dress, and someone was humming as lips pressed into her hair. “Relax, Rose, it’s me. It’s James.” The words were a whisper, and she opened her eyes as relief coursed through her. She was in James’ room, and the early morning light was streaming in. With a gasp, she rolled over, wincing as her nose collided with his chin. “You okay?” He murmured, kissing the tip of her nose.    
  
“I thought...” Rose couldn’t finish the sentence, as she clutched his shirt and buried her face in his chest. Now they were completely flush, and Rose sighed as she realized there was no sign of arousal in his pants at all. Didn’t men always wake up hard? He had the one other time they’d shared a bed when she was sixteen, and his brother always had. Then it hit her, as she fully roused herself to being alert. “You’re already dressed.”    
  
“Mmhmm.” James smiled, as he reached up to tuck Rose’s head back into him. He had woken up an hour before to a panicked Juliza at the door, who couldn’t find Rose. After he reassured her that she was in his bed, he had shaved, washed his face, gotten dressed, and then snuggled back down behind Rose as some of the handmaidens delivered her needed items for the day and their breakfast with happy smiles. The last thing he had wanted to do was have Rose wake up to a sleep hardened husband and have a worse reaction than the minor one she had just fought off. “Thought waking up to me dressed might be easier for you.”    
  
“It was, thank you.” To his delight, she shifted just enough to place a kiss on his chest, before scooting back to blink at him through sleep hazed eyes. “Sorry I woke you up last night.” Rose looked very contrite as she bit at her lower lip and pulled his blanket up under her chin. “I didn’t toss and turn too much after?” He had half expected her to, but he’d woken up in the exact position they’d fell asleep in. Knowing she moved a lot during her nightmares, he had been confident her sleep had either been dreamless or had good thoughts.    
  
“Nope. You didn’t move an inch until I woke up.” James reached out to smooth her slightly messy hair. Rose looked absolutely beautiful like this, and not just because she was in his bed. She looked well rested, with a small smile playing at her lips. “Sorry if I startled you by getting back into bed. Meant to wake you up more gently.”   
  
“You woke me up just fine.” Rose wanted to reassure him that the minor bout of fear had been soothed as soon as he spoke. She sniffed the air, smelling the faint aroma of food. “Breakfast?” His chuckle as he caressed her cheek was warm, and she sat up to gaze down at him. Now that the momentary dread was gone, Rose had to admit, just a little bit, that she liked the way it had felt to wake up in James’ arms, and the adoring smile on his face made her feel warm all the way from her hair to her toes.    
  
“Yes, and your things are over there.” James pushed himself up as he pointed behind her, and Rose looked back to see her clothes draped over his reading chair with his coat beside them. “If you want to get dressed first, I can leave.” She turned back to him, as he stood up and stretched. She kind of didn’t want to get out of bed. It had been the best night’s  sleep she’d had in months, and Rose wasn’t sure exactly how that made her feel. She did know she wanted to find out.    
  
“Could I sleep in your bed all night tonight?” The soft question rolled off of Rose’s tongue as her amber eyes met his with hesitation. James felt like he’d just been struck by lightning, as he felt his jaw drop open in shock. That was one hell of a leap, but before he could answer, Rose was shaking her head and scrambling off the bed. “Nevermind, it was stupid to ask. You probably don’t want to deal with my-“    
  
“Of course I want you to sleep in my bed!” James’ stuttered half exclamation was accompanied by him wrapping Her in a hug. The look on his face when she asked had made her feel like an idiot, the way he was gaping at her. He hadn’t even asked her, she’d just traipsed in and climbed next to him. The tight embrace caught her off guard, and she felt relief at his words. “You coming in last night made me happier than I can say.” Rose wrapped her arms around him, as she let the rejection she’d felt rising dissipate.    
  
“You really want me to?” She chanced a look up, half expecting to find annoyance or lies in his eyes. James was just grinning down at her like she’d given him the best news of his life. It was contagious, and she felt her lips pulling up into a smile as he sighed and responded by kissing her forehead.    
  
“Rose, I want whatever you need to be happy.” James released her only long enough to cup her face. He knew Rose still worried sometimes that he didn’t really want her, didn’t love her, but that was so far from the truth. “If it made you happy to sleep in the snow with just a blanket, you better believe I’d be right there to keep you warm.” Her cheeks flushed that stunning pink again, and James longed to chase the tip of her tongue right back between her lips.    
  
“I’m very happy right now.” Rose hummed, and James had to swallow as she turned her face to kiss his palm. “But I’ll be even more happy if you feed me.” He laughed out loud, and pulled her under his arm to guide her into the dining area. There he pulled out her seat and went about piling her plate down with all her breakfast favorites. Then he fixed his own, sitting down to watch as she dug in with a ferocity. Something was different about her, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining, because Rose did look genuinely pleased.    
  
Rose still felt that dark, aching pit in her gut and mind, but for the first time since Harold had been arrested, it didn’t seem to overpower every happy thought. She felt different, a little stronger, as the confidence from fighting back in her nightmare grew more sturdy. She cast furtive glances at James, who was still grinning as he ate, and Rose didn’t have to tell herself to remember that she liked when he smiled. The complete joy on his face made her feel calm and content.    
  
The feeling stayed with her for most of the day, barring two episodes caused by accidentally burning her finger on the wax and a letter from the vineyard Harold had always purchased his wine from inquiring if they would be purchasing more. Instead of trying to distract herself, Rose chose to let herself feel the panic for a moment and then focus on the defiance she had felt in her dreams. When she met James in the inner courtyard, just before sunset, she felt stronger than she had in a long time, and his excited grin when he saw her coming down the stairs had drawn her right into his arms for a tight embrace.    
  
James was pleased, as he turned back his bedsheets, when Rose came into his room. She had disappeared up to her room after dinner to wash and change, and he’d kind of expected her to change her mind. Yet, there she was, walking around him without reservation, to climb up into the spot she had chosen the night before. So he shuttered the lanterns and crawled under the blankets next to her. “May I-“   
  
Rose didn’t even let him finish, and James preened with pride for his beautiful wife as she curled up into him and snuggled her face into his chest. He held her tightly, kissing her hair, as she draped an arm over his side and gave a relaxed sigh. “I like the way this feels.” He hummed with joy, squeezing her just a little closer, and began stroking her back gently.    
  
“It feels like perfection.” James’ happy whisper made Rose smile, and she relaxed into his embrace, letting his loving brushes along her spine ease her eyes closed in the dark. “I love you, precious girl.” For the first time, Rose didn’t hear Harold’s ghostly snicker calling him a liar.    
  
It was some time after midnight, judging by how dim the fire was burning, Rose woke up to an empty bed. It was the absence of James’ arms that had dragged her to a half awake state, and she sat up, blinking to try and find him. “James?” Movement by the window caught her eye, and she found his shadowed form staring out at the sky. “Nightmare?” She knew that posture, had lived it so much.    
  
“I dreamed you were dead.” He whispered, and when James turned, swallowing, he tried to keep her from seeing how badly it had scared him. He had dreamed she had drowned in the river that day, and though he’d woken up to her in his arms, he was still shaking as he recalled the helpless feeling of dragging her limp body out of the current.    
  
“Come back to bed, James. I’m right here.” The petite hand extended to him was too much too ignore, and he heeded her beckon like a child going to prayer. The firelight cast her face in a golden profile, as he joined her to cup her face. “See, I’m alive.” James couldn’t speak, as the sight of her warm and breathing erased the pale, lifeless Rose broken on the bank of the river.   
  
Rose didn’t know how she had died, but whatever it was had him looking gaunt, defeated, and shaking from head to toe. She instantly hated the look, hated the dream for scaring him so completely, yet, as his other hand came up, framing her cheeks, as he drank in her face, she knew that the fear in him was because her dying was what scared him more than any other. “You’re alive.” His voice was thick with unshed tears, and that did it.    
  
“Yes.” Rose leaned in, not even fearing having an episode, and she caught his lips in a soft embrace. There was flash, a sting of panic, as her body automatically parted her lips in expectation of an intrusive tongue, but it was forced aside as James broke away to stare down at her in shock. Then his lips were on hers again, caressing carefully as they pulled her lower one between them. This was how she should have been kissed all these months, and that thought filled her with ease.    
  
Rose was kissing him, and James felt all of the failure, the terror, and the pain dissipate as she draped her arms over his shoulders and sighed into him. When her lips parted wide, so unlike their previous moments years before, he knew instantly not to take advantage of it. They didn’t kiss like that, because theirs were always equal. Press together, exhale, and then taste her top lip as her tongue delicately brushed his lower one. He couldn’t keep his hands from her hair, gently letting his fingers stroke through them, never tugging or pulling.    
  
She ran her hands down his arms, shifting closer, and though he wanted to, James didn’t pull her into his lap. She needed to be loved, and all he needed was for her to just be there. When she finally broke away, those beautiful eyes fluttering open as she smiled, he knew that she would be in his arms every night. “I love you.” He sighed, bringing his thumb around to trace her lips.”   
  
“Kiss me again, and then let me rub your back until you fall asleep.” Rose smiled at the completely awestruck look on James’ half illuminated face. That had felt wonderful, exactly like she remembered, and Rose was pleased to see his nightmare seemed to have been forgotten. Then he was kissing her again, just a few, brief, mind warming touches, before he lay down on his stomach. She snuggled down, resting her head against his arm, and stroked the raised scars along his back until his breathing grew even and shallow. Only then did she lift his arm off of her pillow, and curl up under it to join him in dreamlessness.

 


	46. Chapter 46

James didn’t think there was any better feeling in the world than when Rose would turn over in the middle of the night, whisper his name, and kiss him gently before snuggling into his chest. Three months of it, and he still woke halfway up, rewrapped his arms around her, and stroked her back until she was relaxed and slumbering again. Kissing her definitely came in at a close second, but knowing she trusted and cared for him enough to be the one that brought her safety and contentment was amazing.    
  
That was until he was sitting in the spring hunting castle near Arcadia, pulling on his boots to join her father, his grandfather, Jack, and Lee on a hunting trip. It was Rose’s name day, but there had been a quiet agreement to not celebrate it, because the next day would mark the start of the cause of the pain. He had gotten her gifts, obviously, but she would get them on the last day of their family holiday. They were two newly trained battle wolves, which he insisted on purchasing from Pete. One was a solid white male, like many of the pack, and the other was a beautiful golden color with red fur around her muzzle, tail, and paws.    
  
“Don’t forget this.” Rose’s half nervous whisper made him sit up, leaning back to look up at her where she was standing behind his chair, and her arms came around to fasten something behind his neck. She gave that timid smile she always wore when she wasn’t sure how he’d react, and then kissed the top of his head. “It’s about time it’s back where it belongs.”    
  
James looked down and gasped in shock as he saw the rose star quartz charm resting against his shirt. It was, without a doubt, the exact one she had given him three years before. His heart swelled with love, as he touched it softly. For her to give him this back, the fact that she had still had it, said everything he knew she was afraid to say out loud. “I’ll never take it off again.” He swore, standing up to pull her around the chair into his arms.    
  
“Please be safe.” Rose wrapped her arms around James, reveling in the sense of acceptance and love that he gave her unconditionally. She knew that he was in no danger out hunting deer, but she had good reason to be nervous about him being gone all day. It was the longest they’d been apart since they’d gotten married, and it made her anxious.    
  
She had wanted to give him the necklace back before they left to come here, but hadn’t found a way to do it. So she’d brought it along, and seeing him gearing up for a day out in the forest had been enough to spur her on. It was her own name day, but all she wanted was for him to know that she hated being apart from him, even for just one full day of hunting. “Of course I will be.” Rose smiled, as he cupped her face tenderly and gave her a sweet, but heart warming, kiss.    
  
She loved kissing him, loved the patience behind it, loved how he never pushed her into a wall or tried to win dominance over her with his tongue. James kissed her like he was still trying to court her, like he knew she needed to feel wanted and appreciated. It no longer brought even a flicker of panic, not even when he sighed and very, very gently let their tongues dance for a brief moment. “Go on.” She chuckled, tasting his breakfast tea and fruit on her lips when he reluctantly released her. “Dad says Tony has been itching to go all night last night.”    
  
“Well I don’t want to keep our little brother waiting.” James lifted the necklace to his lips for a kiss before tucking it away. He didn’t want to go now, because the way Rose was looking at him, almost glowing with the look of adoration and happiness on her face was like a star. “Besides, I have it on good authority that Juliza is going to be bursting in here any minute with talk of a wedding.” The smile that split Rose’s face was one of pure excitement. “So I better get out before the squealing begins.”    
  
“Yes, now go!” He laughed as his own wife pushed him towards the door, and when he opened it, sure enough Juliza was on the other side looking equally glowing, smiling, and staring at a dazzling ring on her hand. Their friend looked up at him, and he laughed as he pulled her into a quick hug before Rose yanked her inside. The door barely closed before they both began exclaiming about the engagement.    
  
As he made his way out to where they were waiting, James recalled the conversation over dinner the night before. It hadn’t been an easy one, as it was the first time little Tony, with his almost four year old, unfiltered, childlike curiosity and observation skills had seen his sister in short sleeves since her marriage to Harold.    
  
“ _ Rosie, how you get all the scars on you arms?” Tony asked, as he prodded his chicken with a fork. Every adult at the table, except Rose nearly choked on their own food.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “A very bad man hurt me a lot.” Rose whispered, as Jackie tried her best to distract Tony, but the boy had dropped his fork to touch his sister’s arm. Rose drew a deep breath, as she looked down at her brother, and James braced himself to intervene if she started having flashbacks.   “Do you remember when Mummy and Daddy brought you to visit, and there was a man who took you riding?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Yes, King Harry.” James could see Tony working to make the connection as he looked up at her, then over at him, and then back at her. “I no like him. He didn’t make you smile big smiles. James makes Rosie smile big all the time. Like Mummy smiles at Daddy! I like you big smiles Rosie!” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Well I try.” James relaxed as Rose squeezed his hand under the table and dropped a kiss to Tony’s hair. “I like her big smiles too.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “The bad man doesn’t hurt you anymore?” Tony asked, and James felt every eye on him, questioning silently, as Rose lifted a hand to stroke his hair. He was in awe of how well she was handling it, how she wasn’t tensing, or shaking.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “No, love. The bad man is gone now, and I’m never going to be hurt by him ever again.” Rose leaned back in her seat to let Tony peer around her at him. James could feel the little boy’s eyes watching him with open curiosity. “James and Captain Jack and Daddy locked him up, and then because I’m queen, I made sure he could never ever hurt anyone again.” Rose’s eyes met James, so soft and trusting as she added. “Because I’m too happy and loved for anyone to do that to me again.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “That’s good!” Tony grinned, turning back to the table, and James was pulled away from drowning in Rose’s whiskey eyes when her brother exclaimed. “Daddy said I can go hunting tomorrow, if I’m real quiet!” Like that, the tension at the table broke, and Rose laughed at his statement, flashing everyone that big, tongue touched grin that James and Tony both adored.  _ __   
  
“James!” Tony’s excited voice yanked him out of his thoughts, as the little Lord waved from where he was astride Pete’s stallion. “Hurry up, before all the deer run away!”    
  
“You heard Lord Tony!” Jack grinned as he tossed him his quiver and bow. “Hurry up!” He strapped them onto his back, before gathering Donar’s reins into his hands and mounting. Honestly, James could care less if they didn’t bag a single one, because the day spent with his family was far more fulfilling.    
  
“Where did he ask?!” Rose pulled a joyful Juliza to sit down by the window so they could look out over the blossoming orchard. She was so happy to know that her closest friends were finally taking this step.    
  
“By the lake, last night, after dinner. I thought he just wanted to get some privacy alone to...” Juliza giggled, biting her lip, and Rose knew exactly what she was implying. Although this was technically a castle, it was only slightly larger than her parents’ manor and all of the rooms were close together. “Then he just pulled out the ring and dropped down, and Rose it was so perfect. Did you know he was going to ask?!”    
  
“Yeah, for a few months!” Rose took her hand to admire the beautiful trio of diamonds nestled on her finger. “He came to ask for mine and James’ blessing, since We consider you like family!” There were already happy tears in Juliza’s eyes, and they spilled over as her friend hugged her. “I’m so happy for you both. I’ll help you plan the wedding and everything, if you want!”    
  
“Will you design my dress?” Juliza’s question made Rose laugh.    
  
“Of course I will!” She pulled back to grin at the woman. “I want the day to be perfect for you. You and Jack deserve it, after everything you’ve done.” Rose was ecstatic that this was happening. This was what normal life was, two souls who loved and accepted each other without reservation being happy. “When do you want the wedding to be?”   
  
“Early summer, in the gardens at the castle.” Juliza sighed as she leaned back in her chair, and Rose’s mind went immediately to work picturing just how to make everything so the day would be splendid. “Do you think James would be willing to walk me down the aisle?    
  
“I think he would be a bit put out if you didn’t ask!” Another thought came to Rose’s mind, one she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of before.    
  
She’d have to ask James first, of course, but looking at the woman across from her, and thinking about Jack, it all made sense. She and James hadn’t been intimate beyond kissing, and even when she was ready, it would be a while before she would be anywhere near emotionally and mentally prepared enough to have children. Juliza and Jack understood the Kingdom, loved Gallifrey, and had both sacrificed so much. If something should happen to Rose and James before they had a child, or even after but before the child was of age, there were no two people better suited to hold the throne.    
  
“We wanted you and James to know before anyone else, but can we go tell the others?” Rose wasn’t about to say no to that. So she jumped up, taking Juliza’s hand, and together they made their way to where her mother, aunt, and cousin were gossiping in the gardens near the orchard.    
  
The other women had accepted Juliza just as openly as they had Sarah Jane, and that pleased Rose to no end. She had come to learn, over the last few months, that family went beyond bloodlines and marriages. True family were the ones that helped make the world feel like a wonderful place, who stepped up when others backed down. That filled Rose with joy and hope.    
  
When the men returned near sunset, laughing, smiling, and Tony carrying a small pheasant that Jack had helped him get with a crossbow, Rose was happy to tell James the news and Juliza’s request. Of course, being the man he was, James hugged Juliza tight and told her he was honored and of course he’d do it. Then they’d all gathered for dinner to celebrate. There was food and wine aplenty, but when Tony fell asleep right in his dessert of apple pie, their large and giggling family began to slowly trickle away to their own rooms.    
  
Rose had bathed first, when she and James went to their suite. James was a bit more dirty from sweating and riding all day, so while he cleaned up, she settled down with her sketch pad, quill, and ink to begin drawing up the first idea she’d had for Juliza’s dress. She was so engrossed with her work, that she didn’t even hear James come out.    
  
Rose was perched on a cushion beside the low table, looking absolutely beautiful in her soft pink night dress, hair plaited and draped over her shoulder, as she squinted at the page. James didn’t even need to see her face to know she was chewing on her quill feather, trying to find a way to get the images in her mind sketched out. Grinning he crept over to her, looking down at the rough outline she’d done. “Juliza’s dress?” He queried, and Rose made an affirming noise as she dipped her quill into the ink.    
  
After all day apart from her, James kind of wanted her attention. He knew better than to ask for it directly or to tell her to put her work down, so he picked up a spare quill, and dropped to the floor beside her. Gently he began tickling her ear. Playful things like this were something that they had both done before the war, and obviously something test was never twisted for her, because they never failed to make Rose giggle. “James, I’m trying to concentrate.” She sighed, pushing it away.    
  
“I know.” James chuckled as she went back to her art, but he was having fun. Today had been absolutely perfect, and he wanted to make it better by holding her in his arms and tasting her lips. He raised the quill again, this time trailing it along her jaw. He was rewarded with another giggle, as she scrunched a shoulder up to block his path.    
  
“Just let me finish this outline.” Rose rolled her eyes at him, and James grinned cheekily as he pulled the quill away. He waited until she lifted her own away from the page to dip it in the ink again, before he brushed the one in his hand along her lower lip. Heaving an exasperated sigh, those glowing eyes of hers met his and she huffed. “James, I love you, honestly I do, but can you just give me two minutes to...” her voice trailed off as James felt his heart nearly explode in his chest. The quill slipped from her fingers, and James watched in stunned wonder as her cheeks flushed.    
  
“You love me?” He’d known she did, felt it every time they touched or shared looks, but Rose had said it. She had finally said it out loud, and the admittance was astounding.    
  
“Yes.” Rose did, really truly she loved him. The words had been so hard to say, because she didn’t want to risk losing him again. They were out now, and the dress design was forgotten as she found herself drowning in the dazzling oceans of shock and love in his eyes. “I do. I love you, so much.”    
  
“Oh, Rose.” The relieved sigh of her name told her that he had been aching to hear those words, and she felt tears sting her eyes as James pulled her into his arms for the sweetest, most tender kiss she’d ever felt in her life. “I love you too.”    
  
“I’m sorry, I never said bef-“ Rose didn’t care that her apology was cut short, because James was cupping her face and caressing her back, and Rose felt so needed, so joyful, that she laced her arms around his neck and let him feel just how much she truly, deeply, loved her husband. When they broke apart, both of their cheeks damp, tinted pink, and smiling, that aching spot deep inside of her shrank even smaller.    
  
  


 


	47. Chapter 47

James pulled the thin undershirt over his head as Rose disappeared into the ensuite to bathe. After spending all afternoon in town with Jack helping to rebuild some of the eight houses that had been burned from a lightning strike last week, he was more than ready to soak in the tub and then pass out.    
  
Even though it was early summer, the heat had been extreme, making him sweat buckets. He’d washed off briefly with the rest of the workers at the site, but only enough to be presentable for dinner. Rose had been hot and sweaty too, as she and Juliza had been in the gardens making sure everything was looking nice for the upcoming wedding in two days. They had two tubs now, but he knew Rose liked her privacy so he let her go first.    
  
Moving to their dresser, he opened it to retrieve one of her thin, summer, night dresses and some sleep pants for himself. He preferred to sleep nude during the warmer months, but since he now shared a bed with his wife, that wasn’t an option. James was perfectly okay with it though. As he closed the drawer, his attention was caught by a new addition to her half of the space. There was a round, lidded, box next to her sketch pad that hadn’t been there over a week ago, when he’d fetched her a clean nightdress in the middle of the night when her cycle came on. “What’s this?” He wondered if it was a wedding gift or something for Juliza, and unhooked the clasp to open it.   
  
Inside were glass bottles and a metal diffuser used for steeping medicinal teas. He picked one of them up, uncorking it to sniff the dried herbs inside. As the scent hit him, his head swum. It was Queen Anne’s lace. Quickly he stoppered it was shaky fingers, grabbing the next bottle, squinting at the label. “Jack in the Pulpit.” The next one he lifted carefully, swallowing hard as he didn’t really need to speak the words. “Smartweed.” Heart racing he replaced the bottles and closed the lid.    
  
Rose had stopped drinking the herbal tea the day after they had gotten married. He knew that, had watched her empty the bottles in the fire once he assured her he had no intention of pursuing her physically until she was ready. The bottles he had just put away had been used for a least a week, judging by the quantity in them. There could only be one reason she was making the tea again. She was strongly considering taking that step, the one he knew would be the ultimate victory for her personally, and his heart thudded against his ribs. The question was, when?    
  
He knew he couldn’t let on, couldn’t even hint that he knew what she was planning. James didn’t want to rush her, to make her feel pressured. He wanted her, of course, but he knew it was paramount Rose be the one who initiated it. Forcing himself to calm down, he carried her dress to the ensuite door, opening it just enough to slip one arm in and lay it next to the morning wash basin.    
  
Rose stared at the full tubs and the dying fires in the small alcoves that had heated the water. She ran her hand along the smooth stone rim of hers, and her mind drifted back to a night over a week ago. It had been a crucial moment she hadn’t known she needed, until it happened.   
  
_ Rose woke up with her stomach and back aching. Groaning in irritation, she kicked the too hot sheets and blankets off and wriggled away from James’ arm draped over her chest. One shift of her thighs, accompanied with a throb low in her abdomen, had told her exactly why she’d woken up. “No. Nonono.” She sat up, fumbling to unshutter the oil lamp resting on the bedside table, and she whined as she saw the stain on her skirts and the sheets. She was a day early, and that had caught her unprepared. James was going to be disgusted, but she had to wake him up and get him to move off the sheets so she could change them. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Rose, love, ‘s okay. ‘M here.” James mumbled, his hand shifting across the sheets. Of course he thought it was a nightmare. “Rose?” Those sleep laden eyes lifted, and Rose covered her face in mortification with one hand while she attempted to cover up the mess on her dress and under her with the thin blanket, as he sat up. “Sweetheart what’s wrong?”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “‘M sorry. I need you to go in the other room for a bit. I need to change and switch the sheets.” Harold had hated this, and she knew most men were temperamental about it as well. “I’ll be quick, promise.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Sorry for what.” James pried her hand away from her face, and she watched in embarrassment as he used his other to peel back the sheets. “Oh.” He shook his head, and Rose felt her stomach clench. Of course he wouldn’t be okay with her making a mess of their bed. “Go wash up, love. I’ll bring you a clean dress and take care of the sheets.” With a sleepy smile, he leaned over to kiss her cheek before kicking his own legs free to stand.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “No, I can do it. I know you don’t want to touch it.” Rose scrambled to stand, making to pull the sheets free as he shuffled in the dim light to the drawers with her night clothes. “It’s dirty blood, and men don’t like-“  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “It isn’t dirty, silly girl.” James’ arms wrapped around her from behind, his hand rubbing her stomach soothingly. Disbelief coursed through her at his words, as he brought his lips around to kiss just behind her ear. “It’s natural. Any man who thinks it’s unclean or dirty is a moron. You go take this dress off, and I’ll take care of it.”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I love you.” Rose felt too choked up by his groggy whisper and loving touch to say much else, and she stole into the wash room to strip the night gown off and wet a rag in the morning wash basin to clean herself off with. Just as he promised, a clean night dress and her underthings for such times were passed through the door. Rose took the time to calm herself down and push the rest of her unnecessary embarrassment away, and when she shuffled out of the room, the sheets were indeed changed and James was laying back down.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Come here, love.” He patted her space beside him, and when Rose joined him, he rolled over to gently massage her stomach. It hadn’t even been a fifteen minute incident, but the realization that came with his actions had touched her deeper than any before. James wouldn’t ever find anything about her repulsive, not even the brands or scars that disfigured her skin. The next morning, she asked Juliza to fetch her a new box and refill her herbs for her tea.  _ __   
  
Rose had been trying to find a moment the last three nights to attempt to take the leap. In her heart, she was ready. It was her mind that was the issue. Every time they’d been kissing in bed, she could feel the low simmer of arousal starting, but the  nervousness kicked in. What if she had a panic attack when he rolled her onto her back, or what if he was into it but then she didn’t perform to his standards? What if James found the brands on her thighs too much to handle, and he couldn’t stay aroused?    
  
She knew she had to get herself out of that mindset, out of the fear of not only her own insecurities but the bed. Rose touched the water, finding it just the perfect temperature, and made up her mind. Before she tackled something as big as the bed, she had to face the last small fear. If she could share a bath with him, Rose could share a bed. She heaved a steadying sigh, and reached back to loosen her dress. Then she shed it and her undergarments. The door creaked open behind her, James slipping in her night clothes. She could do this.    
  
“James, love, can you come in here?” Rose would have gone for sultry and inviting, but she managed soft and desperate instead. She swore she heard him make a sound like he had been punched, and she drew a breath as she turned to face the door. James was opening it wider, stepping in, and his eyes were closed as he did. “You can look.”    
  
James’ mind was a whirlwind at her soft words. It took all of his self control not to let his eyes snap open and drink in the possibility that she was absolutely naked before him. Slowly, knowing Rose would be watching him, either face on or over her shoulder, he eased his eyes open, and he swallowed hard as he found Rose was indeed completely bare. “Blimey.” The word slipped out in a gasp of stunned approval at the beautiful sight before him. He knew instantly that because she wasn’t moving her arms to cover herself that she really meant he could look.   
  
Yes, she was scarred, the white and pink lines crisscrossing her skin from just below her breasts, down to her curls, and they started again at her thighs. However, the torch and firelight made Rose’s skin glow invitingly, and he found himself frozen by how perfect he found her from the blush coloring her cheeks and neck, down to her toes. Scarred or not, she was breathtaking. “By the gods, you are an absolute vision.” He murmured, the words rolling off of his tongue before he could stop them. One delicate hand lifted, beckoning him forward.    
  
“Join me, please.” Rose could barely formulate the three words as the intense wonder in James’ eyes made her whole body tingle. Those summer sky eyes weren’t lustful, dark, and greedy as they trailed over her. They were blown wide as he swallowed and stepped forward. Her heart was racing, both from nerves and anticipation.    
  
“Are you sure?” James was an arms length away, and Rose found herself trembling in a way she had never experienced as she tried not to lose herself in the soft question. She nodded, taking his hand and pulling him back towards the tub. He seemed a bit dazed, as he followed her, his free hand fumbling blindly with the strings on his trousers.    
  
She chanced a glance down, expecting to find a straining bulge, but there wasn’t one. Rose’s mind struggled to figure out whether she should feel rejection over the lack of a physical reaction or pleased that he had enough self control to wait until she made her intentions known. “I love you.” She was still feeling anxious, but she didn’t cover herself from his eyes. She just released his hand long enough to turn and pour some scented bath oil into the water while he pushed his trousers down to kick them aside.    
  
“I love you too.” James bit back a groan as Rose bent over slightly to use her hand to mix in the bath oil. Her skin from this angle looked magnificent, but he didn’t reach out to touch her. He could see the way she was trembling, but it wasn’t the same as she did when she was afraid. His beautiful wife was a coiled spring, and he knew that if he approached her the wrong way, she would snap. It was taking all of his energy to keep his body under control, to not let his yearning to finally have her in his arms this way show. Those amber eyes captured him again as she turned, and he smiled softly at her. “You can look.” He offered gently.    
  
Rose’s eyes drifted down his skin, and James could practically feel them as they took him in. She had seen him shirtless before, almost every night, had spent hours mapping out his own reminders of their two years apart with her tender touches. This was different, from the way her lower lip was dampened by her tongue, to the way her pupils went just a bit wider as her gaze drifted lower than ever before, halting for three of his heartbeats at the junction of his thighs, and then down his legs. “You are so gorgeous.” Rose breathed, and James felt a fear of possible disapproval he didn’t know he was harboring turn to vapor in the fragile tension between them.    
  
James was physically perfect, in Rose’s opinion. From the lean planes of his chest, to the still unreacting member, down his fit legs and back up to his hesitant blue eyes. His scars didn’t detract from how she saw him, as she had spent so many nights memorizing each one and listening to the story behind them. They added to his beauty, as a myriad of struggles that told a story of a prince who left home a boy, became a soldier, then a slave, and then came home a man to become king.    
  
“I’ll get in first, okay?” James hadn’t touched her yet, not more than the brief touch of fingers, and Rose knew he was waiting for her permission. She nodded, stepping aside to let him sink into the water. Then his hand extended to her, and Rose drew a deep breath to hold until she took it and joined him. Her mind wanted to recall that the last time she had shared a bath with a man had been after... no, she wouldn’t think about that. This was different. It was James helping her settle between his knees, as she knelt on the warm stones, and he would never do that. She had to remember that. He had proved it, was proving it by not even touching her any more than his knees framing her bare thighs and hips. She could do this.    
  
It flickered across Rose’s face, that flinch that indicated a bad memory had started to form, and James quickly changed his mind about pulling her against his chest to let her gather herself. He had waited this long, and he could wait a whole lot longer. Rose relaxed, but he could still see she was slightly trembling. Her fingers clasped the cloth draped near her left arm, and she dipped it into the water. Then she picked up the bar of soap, lathering it up in the wet material. James was mesmerized by the movements, and when she lifted her eyes to his again, he felt the air grow thick like sunrise the morning after a summer storm. “Can you help me?” She turned her back to him as he took the cloth from her fingers.    
  
Rose lowered her hands to his knees, as James leaned forward behind her to begin trailing the soapy cloth along her back. It was the first time she had directly let him touch any part of her exposed skin besides her arms, neck, and face. She only jumped when the first touch happened, just below her neck, and then she let her head loll forward as he trailed a slow path along her shoulders.    
  
At first, it made her stomach clench and her throat tighten, but as James continued his ministrations without taking advantage of using his free hand to touch her skin, Rose found herself relaxing into it. She sighed softly, squeezing his knees, and slowly let her fingers trace down his calves. The cloth finally moved onto her full back, where she knew the largest scars were knotted and raised. “Rose, love, do you trust me?” His whisper had a sense of longing and determination behind it, but it didn’t frighten her.    
  
“Yes, completely.” She whispered, wondering what was on his mind. She felt him shift, the water rocking, and then suddenly his lips were pressed into her back. Rose gasped, clenching her fingers into his legs, and the kisses stopped. Feeling lightheaded from the unexpected caress, she swallowed, allowing his exhales along her skin to ease her. “Don’t stop, James, please.” Those perfect lips returned, and his free hand began moving along her back with them.    
  
James felt a bit punch drunk by what was happening. Rose’s skin felt so wonderful, despite the criss crossing, raised, lines on her back, and the intimacy of what she was allowing to occur had his heart racing. He had remembered what Pete had said, about remembering how much he loved her when Rose finally revealed herself to him, and James knew that his lips and fingers needed to be on those scars. He knew she needed to feel that they didn’t make her any less perfect to him.    
  
Rose was making tiny, pleased, breathy noises, and each one sent jolts of heat and confidence down his spine. She wanted this, wanted him to touch her, and he could hardly believe it. Slowly, giving her time to stop him, James eased the cloth below the water to trail around her waist to her stomach, as his other hand was repeating the same gentle strokes she always placed on his. As his lips closed around one particular point of her scars, where her shoulders met her spine, Rose shivered and let out a sound like nothing he’d heard her make before.    
  
It sounded throaty, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, and she slid her right hand up to the one he was using to work the cloth in gentle strokes along the scars on her stomach. James almost stopped, afraid he’d crossed a line, but she pulled the cloth from his fingers, dropped it in front of her, and pressed his palm flat against her skin. “All of me, touch all of me, please. I need this.” There was an edge of pleading in his voice, and James was done for at the low, breathy order.    
  
Rose didn’t have words to describe what she was feeling. Some parts of her, the dark, terrified parts, were telling her to stop, that this was too much, but then the other parts, the ones that trusted him, that loved James so fiercely she felt like it would set her on fire, were craving to feel his lips and fingers everywhere. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t open her eyes. The world felt like it was shrinking and expanding all at once. James didn’t verbalize his response, because the groan that vibrated along her spine and the way his hands began to move along her skin with more confidence spoke enough.    
  
The hand on her back pushed her gently forward, up out of the water until she was leaning against the opposite side of the rim, forehead pressed against her palms as she gripped the stones. His breathing became quickened, unsteady, as James’ lips accessed parts of her back that had been hidden by the water. Each brush, each sigh that ghosted over her skin, made her feel more and more dizzy, and yet acutely aware of the fingers memorizing each curve and dip of her ribs as they moved up. The hand that had been mapping her back slid down her waist, leaving chills and heated waves as they reached her thighs. Both hands froze, one below her breasts and one at the dip where her rear met her legs.   
  
“All of you?” James’ question was more like seeking permission, and his tongue gave a beckoning graze against her spine. Rose thought she whispered yes, but her ears were suddenly ringing from the sensation, so she couldn’t hear. Obviously she did, because his hands moved in unison, one cupping her right breast, squeezing gently before continuing up to caress the dips of her clavicles and the other sliding inward, gently kneading the swell of her rear before trailing down to her thigh again. “Can you lean back for me, love?”    
  
James caught Rose’s half fall, half intentional movement by wrapping his arms around her as her back met his chest. He’d committed every part of her back to memory, and now he needed to do the same with her front. He really wanted her to face him, but he was afraid she’d see the desire on his face, and that she wouldn’t be able to continue. Like this, he could hide it in her neck, keep her body away from the growing evidence under the water. This moment was too blissful to ruin by her thinking all he wanted was to be inside of her. “Tell me if I need to stop, if I cross any lines.”    
  
“I will, promise.” Assured that he had her consent, that she was reassured he wouldn’t continue if she couldn’t, James nestled his chin on her shoulder and looked down through the torch illuminated water to watch as he moved his hands. Rose’s heart was racing, thudding just as wildly as his own, as she let her head fall back against him. It didn’t escape his notice that her breasts had been unmarked, and though he wanted to take them in his hands, to make her utter that breathy moan again, he somehow knew that those and the curl covered mound between her thighs had to be the last place his hands went.    
  
He started with her ribs and stomach, pressing kisses into her shoulder as his fingers explored, discovering which places made her tense and which made her shiver and give ting, eager, pleased noises. She was particularly sensitive, in the good way, just below her pelvic bones, and James drew adoring strokes and circles there humming approvingly at the way it made Rose’s fingers dance along is forearms. Only when she parted her closed legs, letting her knees rest against his, did he continue his path downwards.    
  
Rose expected him to go straight for her folds, but James didn’t. He didn’t even touch them in the least. His fingers went to her thighs instead, first along the outside. They danced down to her knees, squeezing them, rubbing them lovingly, before moving back up to her hips slowly, then they dipped in, and Rose whimpered in delight as they missed her curls and began trailing back towards her knees. Everything felt so intense, a torrent of pleasure fighting hard against the weaker fear. Then his fingers paused, and they pressed, circling mirrored spots on each thigh, and James made a strange noise behind her.    
  
It took her boggled mind a moment to realize what he was doing, why he had stopped, and Rose’s enjoyment was threatened to be ruined by phantom burning and the remembered smell of flesh burning. Then James whispered, oh so softly in her ear, and the sincerity of his words eased her mind. “I love every part of you, even these.” His thumbs flicked along where Rose knew her skin was raised and pink.    
  
“I know.” She breathed, turning her head, tilting her chin up for his lips as his hands continued their exploration. James gave her the softest of kisses, as their noses brushed. The breaths that broke across her face was accompanied by him trailing his fingers down her things, up her abdomen, and then ever so gently curling around the bottom portion of her breasts. She needed to feel the calloused palms on them, craved to know if having them touched brought as much pleasure as her books and Juliza’s stories told her they would. “Don’t stop.” She murmured, as her head spun in anticipation.    
  
James moved his hands up, and Rose groaned at the sensation. Where his brother had been rough, forceful, groping hard and twisting, James moved with worshipping softness. The only roughness was the sword and work hardened spots on his palms, as he lifted, tenderly squeezed, and sighed into her lips. Heat, which had already been slowly kindling in her core, flooded outward, making her feel even more dizzy, more sensitized. His left thumb grazed one perky bud, and for the first time in her life, Rose groaned and felt her body press up for more.    
  
James was in total bliss, as he watched and felt Rose physically react to his touch. He had been unsure if he had been doing this right, as he had no experience but had read and been given stories on what women liked. Rose wasn’t most women, and watching as her lips parted, her body chased his hands for more, and her skin flushed from her cheeks down to her breasts put him at ease. Desire told him to turn her in his lap, to replace his hands with his lips, but logic won out, just barely, as her hand came up to curl along his neck.    
  
“You are perfect.” James couldn’t help how husky he sounded. He’d never been so aroused and yet so relaxed in his life. Yes, sometime kissing Rose drove him from bed after she fell asleep to take the edge off in solitude, but this was different. This was an intimacy he never even considered was possible. His body told him to rock against her, but his heart told him to press a kiss into her wrist as he circled his thumbs and drew heady gasps from her lips. He listened to his heart.    
  
Rose was trembling again, but James knew it was in the best way possible. Her thighs moved back together, and he felt the water shift as they slid together between his own legs. Her other hand moved down his arm, covering his left hand, covering his fingers encouragingly was he gave a delicate, lifting squeeze of her breast. “Love that, love you.” The slur of her words told him that she did, indeed, find this as pleasurable as he did. The fingers on his neck moved back further, pulling his lips to her neck as her head tilted to the side. “Please...” James wasn’t about to deny her anything, had lost the ability the minute she’d asked him into the bath. He closed his lips over her elegant neck, taking care not to use his teeth or mark her skin.    
  
James’ lips on her neck had seemed like a good idea. Her body had wanted it, but the sensation sent a wave of images behind her closed eyes. Teeth, tongue, possessive growling, and smug smirks threatened to ruin her bliss. No, she wouldn’t let them. This was James. This was love. She could feel the rightness of it so deeply inside of her that she thought it would consume her. The demon didn’t control her anymore. The Master didn’t own her. She was her own person, made her own choices, and nobody would stop her, not even a ghost.    
  
“Rose.” James’ lips brushed her ear, gravely with need but thick with concern. “I’ll stop.” His hands were gone, and Rose felt their absence like a fresh wound. No, not yet, she needed him. Not caring that she was making a mess, Rose spun around, water splashing up and over the rim. James was staring at her, eyes soft but pupils wide with need. His lips were parted, as he reached a hand for her face, and Rose pounced.    
  
Straddling his lap, she pressed her chest against his, scraping her nails in his short, dark hair as their lips crashed together. James groaned, and then his hands were on her back and gripping her side. “I. Didn’t. Tell. You. To. Stop.” Rose panted between pulls of their lips. She didn’t wince as their teeth clashed twice, and she chased his tongue with her own, needing him to rid the memory of the other in her mouth. James gave another, throaty, chesty groan as he sat up straighter, wrapping an arm around her hips to pull her closer.    
  
Rose slid up his thighs, as he sucked longingly on her lower lip. Their stomachs pressed together, the hand on her hip shifting her down, and Rose felt him. James was hard, ready, waiting and when his length wedged between their bodies, his lips faltered, teeth lightly pinching hers, as he rocked against her. The panic threatened to flare, and Rose pulled back to force her eyes open and remember it was James. “I love you, Rose.” He promised, and she went for his lips again.    
  
The hand still on her back came around, cupping her breast, making her lift up in delight as she warred with the fear. James would never, ever hurt her. He would be gentle, would make love to her. Rose told herself that, over and over, and she shifted her hips. His length parted her curls and folds, sliding against a spot that sent lightning up her spine. Then he bucked under her, their bodies moving, splashing more water as she whimpered into his kiss. The tip of him found her entrance, and all she needed to do was sink down. Rose felt the pressure of being entered begin. James’ fingers tightened on her skin, and a desperate, keening, groaning growl came from his throat.   
  
She was on a bed, crying, pleading, screaming. He was growling over her, digging his fingers into her angrily. So much pressure between her thighs, pain... she wasn’t ready. “STOP!” She screamed at the memory, burying her face in her hands.   
  
  



	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is actually how I wanted the last chapter to end, but since it’s like 1600 addition words, I’m making it a stand alone chap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saoirse is pronounced Sertia (like inertia)

The sobbed, whispered plea that came from Rose caught James off guard, but he didn’t hesitate. He hadn’t even done more than tease her entrance when she had frozen, pulled from his lips, and went pale. He had known what was happening before she spoke. So he lifted her in the water, moving her off of his lap. He wasn’t angry or even disappointed. She had tried, had taken herself further than ever before, and that was enough. “Rose, sweetheart, open your eyes.” He chanced a touch to her shoulder as she pulled at her hair.   
  
James felt the arousal of the moment dissipate instantly as she curled her knees up to her chest and flinched back. “Please, no more. I can’t. It hurts. Stop.” He lowered his hand, swallowing as he realized she wasn’t just having a momentary flashback. She was stuck in it. This hadn’t happened in months, but he remembered exactly what needed to be done.    
  
As softly as possible, James pried her fingers from the now loosened pile of curls on her head and laced his fingers through the left ones. Then he pulled to right one up to his face. “Rose, love, you’re safe. Listen to me. It’s James, you know that. It’s me. Listen to my voice.” He didn’t know exactly what had triggered this, because she had been so into it, so eager, had obviously planned it, but it wasn’t time to focus on that. He needed Rose to come back. “Think of the wolf, love. She’s golden, and her name is Saoirse. Why did you name her that?”    
  
“Saoirse.” The name penetrated the memory like a dagger, and Rose wasn’t on the bed anymore. She was standing beside a golden wolf with red fur on her muzzle and paws. “Freedom, my freedom.” The she wolf snarled at the room, and Rose’s eyes snapped open. She could still feel the terror, but as James’ face swam into focus she was able to remember where she was, what had just happened, and failure mingled with the fear. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry!”    
  
She scrambled to her feet, yanking her hands away from him. Rose couldn’t handle the love on his face. Couldn’t believe that it had happened. She had started it, had needed it so badly, and she had failed. “Rose, come back.” She slipped on the wet stones, almost falling, as she jumped out of the tub and grabbed a towel. “We can talk about this.” She heard the water slosh, but she couldn’t look back. There was guilt in his voice, and fear. “Tell me what I did? What did I do wrong?”    
  
“Nothing!” She screamed. “That’s the fucking point! You’re bloody perfect, and I’m...” Rose dashed across the room, ripping the door open. She couldn’t face him anymore. She couldn’t keep failing at something that should be so natural. It burned her inside, ate away at her soul as she heard him give chase. “Stay in there!” She slammed the door in his face, scrambling for her clothes meant for tomorrow.    
  
James stared at the heavy wood. Rose hadn’t shut him out like this since Harold had been executed. He didn’t understand what she meant. If he hadn’t tried to help her take that step, hadn’t positioned himself so clumsily for her to ease down and finally prove to her that he did want her, did desire her physically as much as he did emotionally, then she wouldn’t have  regressed so far in on herself. “Rose, please. Tell me what I did.” He wouldn’t open the door, wouldn’t violate her need for space. “I stopped! Rose you said stop, and I stopped. Think about it.”   
  
He was scared though, as he grabbed his own towel and wrapped it around him, that he’d ruined everything she’d worked so hard for. “I am! Fucking hell!” The shout shattered his heart as he heard the sound of something being knocked down, and Rose sobbing. He reached for the knob, afraid she’d hurt herself in her panic. This wasn’t like her, the screaming, the shouting. “I told you to stay in there!” Something small hit the door, and James stumbled back at the tiny thud. “I’m sorry. I can’t!” Then the bedroom door slammed hard.    
  
“Rose!” James ripped open the door, stepping out. Pain shot up his foot, and he looked down to see what he’d stepped on. His world shattered as the light from the lamps sparkled off of her ring. “No! Rose!” This couldn’t be happening. He scooped up the ring, rushing to get his clothes on, and shoved it into his pocket. If he knew his Rose, she’d be halfway to Juliza by now.    
  
Swallowing back the regret, the fear that he might have just cost himself everything he loved, he didn’t even bother with boots, and dashed out of the room. James had left her broken and crying once before. He wasn’t about to do it again.    
  
Rose’s first instinct was to find Juliza, to ask her for help, for comfort, but she was so happy now, preparing for her wedding. She didn’t want to ruin that, to screw up something else because she was so broken and afraid. She had nobody, nowhere to turn to. She could hear James calling after her, but she couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t keep disappointing him.   So she let her bare feet carry her through the halls towards the stables.    
  
It would be empty, as the workers would have left just after sunset, and the hay loft  would make a perfect spot for her to think. James wouldn’t look for her there, not right away. The grass was cool under her feet, but that was fine. The tears had started, blurring her vision as she ran. It wasn’t like she could see much anyways in the dark, but Rose knew the way. She knew where to find the doused oil lantern still warm on the peg, knew where the flint and steel would be to light it, and she scaled the ladder up to collapse in a corner of the loft. She found the farthest corner, far away from the windows, and hung the lamp on the hook there.    
  
Rose drew her knees up to her chest, panting for air as she sobbed into her skirts. “I can’t. I just can’t. I love you, but I can’t.”    
  
“Care to explain what you can’t do?” Jack’s voice was soft, and Rose lifted her head to find him climbing into the loft looking like he’d just run full speed. “Because if I just ran all the way down here because you forgot how to make a pie, then you owe me big time.”   
  
“Just go away, Jack.” Guilt mingled with the failure and pain now, as he made his way over to flop down beside her. “I don’t want to drag you down too. You’re getting married in two days. Go to Juliza.”    
  
“Not leaving until you talk.” Jack shook his head as he spoke. Rose tried to give him her most fierce look, but the sob ruined it.    
  
“You won’t understand.” Rose whimpered, hiding her face in her arms, unable to handle the brotherly way he was staring at her. “Just go.” His response was to huff and pull his boots off. Peeking up, she saw him cross his legs and arms. She knew he meant it.    
  
James pounded on Juliza’s door, his heart racing as he panted for breath from his sprint. “Come on, Rose. Juliza, please! Let me talk to her.” The room was silent, but James knew it was the only place she’d go. Juliza was the last one who had lived it left, and it was the logical place for his love to be. “I just want to know what I did.”    
  
“If you’re looking for a sobbing, blonde, Queen about yay high.” James spun to find Juliza standing in the hall behind him holding a key up to her height. “Jack just took off after her into the stables.” Her eyes trailed over his wet skin, panicked face, and half pulled on clothes, and she sighed. “Well shit.”    
  
“I have to talk to her.” James tried to push past, but Juliza’s fingers closed on his arm like a vice. “Let me go! I need to talk to Rose.” He tried to wrench his arm away, but her grip was strong. It wasn’t right. He should be comforting Rose, not Jack.    
  
“You’re the last person she wants to see right now.” Juliza shook her head, yanking him back, and James was stunned by the ferocity and determination in her face. He was about to ask if Rose had said it, if she had spoken to her, when Juliza slid the key into the lock. “I know because the first time I tried to have sex with Jack, I ended up in Rose’s bed for the rest of the night pretending I had a nightmare, and I couldn’t even touch him for a week.”   
  
“Seriously?” James was shocked that she had figured it out without him saying a word, and also by the fact that someone as experienced as Jack had screwed up as badly as he had. He wanted to go to his wife, to beg her to tell him how to fix it, but Juliza shoved him inside her room and shut the door.    
  
“Sit down, James.” Juliza pointed at a small sofa as she wandered over to a shelf to pick up a bottle of brown liquid and two cups. Even though he was King, James knew this was an order he had to follow. “It’s time you understood exactly what was going through Rose’s mind tonight, and you’re not leaving until I’m done.” She dropped down next to him, filling the cups half way. “You’re gonna need this.” James accepted the mug, and he did his best to remain calm. He’d give every jewel in the treasury and his left arm to know what he had done to Rose. “Okay, tell me how it started.”    
  



	49. Chapter 49

“You tried it, didn’t you?” Rose met Jack’s eyes, and there was an understanding there that James hadn’t had. She nodded wordlessly. How could he know? Was it so obvious? “And you panicked and ran out, right?” Rose swallowed, unable to ask him how he knew past the lump in her throat and her tears. “Not before you shouted at him a bit.”    
  
“How’d you know?” Rose knew from experience that screams didn’t make it past the royal wing. That’s why they used to have guards posted in the shift room. Rose hadn’t like it after having her room burst into every time she had a nightmare, so she’d convinced James to only allow them to post when the castle was busy. “Did you hear me? That why you followed me?”   
  
“No I’m on night shift tonight, since I’ll be locked away for two day. Juliza brought me out some tea. We saw you running.” Jack offered her a small smile, and Rose sniffled as she wiped her face. “As for how I know, well, because I’ve been in James’ shoes. I remember the first time Juliza and I tried. It was pretty traumatic for us both.”    
  
Rose was confused. Juliza had always seemed so confident in her physical relationship with Jack, even from the start. They’d shared best friend gossip about how compatible the two were on many occasions, and never once had Juliza mentioned being afraid. Never once had she said she couldn’t do it. “But Juliza said you two have been intimate since almost immediately after Harold was arrested.”    
  
“Intimacy doesn’t mean...” Jack seemed to be trying to word it accurately, but he sighed. “I’m no good at flowering things up and keeping them proper for conversation, so excuse me for my lapse in propriety.” Rose felt a manic giggle at the look on his face. “Intimacy isn’t just sex, as in penetration. If you want to call that sex, it took us almost two months to even try. Then another two weeks after that before we did.”    
  
“I don’t understand.” Rose felt stupid for not comprehending what Jack was explaining, and as it mingled with her other emotions, she felt that aching hole in her gut trying to grow again. “She said you were the best lover she’d had, better than the few women she’d been with.” The words made Rose pause, as Jack arched an eyebrow. She was missing something, something from her lessons years before, but it had been erased by everything she’d gone through.    
  
“Exactly, we made love in other ways.” Jack gave a pleased chuckle and smiled. “There are plenty of other ways to pleasure your partner than intercourse, Rose, hands and tongues for instance.” A spark of mischievousness lit up his eyes, and Rose found herself blushing at the experience behind it. She had been taught about that, and hadn’t Harold submitted her to it on more than one occasion? “Juliza had already experienced what that was like, and it didn’t take much for her to be open to that again. She didn’t have an episode until I made the stupid mistake of believing her when she told me she needed to do it.” His smile fell, and he heaved a heavy sigh. “I’d never felt like such a failure, such an idiot, as I did the moment I tried to...” Those normally roguish blue eyes were heavy with regret as his words trailed off.   
  
“Tried to what?” Rose needed to know. She had to know exactly what had set Juliza off. Maybe then she’d understand why she couldn’t do it, why she was so broken inside that a simple touch destroyed her. “Fuck propriety, out with it.”    
  
“When I tried to push inside of her.” Jack ran a hand through his hair, as if he wanted to yank it out. Rose gasped softly, as she realized that was exactly what had triggered her panic. “She was begging me to, telling me how much she needed to do it, to feel it, but as soon as I got just the tip inside, she started screaming, slapping at me, trying to push me off of her.”    
  
“What happened then?” Rose could see how much Jack hated himself for acting too quickly, but that was after two months. Of course Juliza wasn’t ready. Hell, she hadn’t been able to kiss James for longer than that, and she’d only managed to tell him she loved him three months ago. That was the problem. It had been eight months now, and Rose still couldn’t do it.   
  
“She screamed at me to leave, to never talk to her again. She wouldn’t tell me what I’d done wrong, just stormed out and left me there.” Jack heaved another exhale, as he reached over to wipe Rose’s cheeks. She had done the same thing, been unable to say why she couldn’t do it. “I found out later she went to your room to hide, and she didn’t talk to me for a week.”    
  
“What changed her mind?” Rose nuzzled her cheek into Jack’s warm palm, thankful that he had followed her. He always knew how to calm her down, had from the night they met. His friendship felt like it spanned a lifetime, and Rose cherished that more than she ever admitted.    
  
“No clue.” Jack gave a chuckle as he shrugged. “One night, she showed up at my room, said she was sorry for screaming and running out, and asked if I wanted to know why she did it. Of course I wanted to know.” Rose frowned when his hand pulled away from her cheek, but it didn’t last because he had her wrapped up tight in his lap. “Why do you think she screamed and ran out, Rosebud?” The nickname from her younger years made her breath in the smell of his cologne. Younger years, the thought made Rose want to laugh. Fifteen seemed so much longer than the four years it had been. “Hazard a guess, go on.”    
  
“Is it because she felt like a worthless failure who couldn’t do somethin’ as simple as make love to her partner?” Rose felt so embarrassed to admit it out loud, because it made her feel like she was broken, like she was less than a woman.    
  
“Hit the nail on the head.” Jack rubbed her arms soothingly, and Rose let his shirt catch her tears as she started sobbing again. If Juliza had only taken two and a half months to be able to do it, why couldn’t she? Why did everything that should feel good and right and natural leave her sobbing and running? “Which is a natural way to feel, even if it isn’t the truth.”    
  
“It is the truth.” Rose jerked back, her heart sinking all over again. She thought Jack had understood, wouldn’t make her feel worse about herself. Besides, by his description Juliza was on her back, so of course it would scare her. “I needed it, Jack. I invited him to the bath. I asked him to touch me. I climbed on top of him. I needed to do it, but before we even got as far as you and Juliza did... I lost it.” She shook her head, trying to get him to understand. “Everything was perfect, it felt so right. I spent the last three days planning it, and I couldn’t. I needed to do this, and I failed.”    
  
“Gods above you sound just like Juliza.” Jack sighed, reaching down to lift her chin. “You need, you need, you need. Rose, you can’t need it. It isn’t air or water or food.” Rose blinked up at him, not understanding his point. “Stop needing it. Stop letting this.” He tapped her temple with a finger. “Tell this.” He lowered his head to her chest, poking once. “What it needs to do, or you’re never going to get to that point.”    
  
“I don’t understand, Jack. I’m supposed to need it. I’m supposed to be able to make love to my damn husband. It should be the most natur-“ Jack covered her mouth with the finger and shook his head. Why wouldn’t he just let her explain? She could explain to him, because he had dealt with this, had somehow managed to make Juliza better.    
  
“Just shush your mouth and listen to Jack.” He murmured, lowering his hand. Rose pressed her lips together and waited. “You have to want it. When you need it, you make it an ultimatum. You set yourself up for failure every time. When you want it, when you truly, deeply, all the way to your soul want it, that’s when you can do it. Did you really want it tonight, Rose, or did you need to push yourself to just get it over with?”    
  
“I needed to push myself...” Understanding finally coursed through her. Yes, the touching, the kissing, the fondling had been wonderful. It had made her feel beautiful and loved and desired, but the need to push it hadn’t come from that. It had come from the need to erase the last vestiges of Harold’s hold on her mind. “How did Juliza know she wanted it? How did you know the difference?” How could she ever know the difference?    
  
“Well, we were laying in her bed one night, just talking about how it was lucky we’d only had one blizzard this winter, and we were laughing about how the cooks sons had accidentally nailed Lord Dorium with a snowball, and then the next thing I knew she was kissing me.” Jack gave a twinkling smile, as he shifted her in his lap. “It wasn’t the kind of kiss that normally led to other things. It was just this slow, deep, languorous kiss, and before I knew it she was naked straddling my waist. I almost stopped her, but she smiled and said she wanted it, wanted me, and then it was perfect, the best I’d ever experienced.”    
  
“So I’m not a failure?” Rose could still feel the doubt nagging at her mind. She could still hear Harold’s taunt that he would be the only man to have her that way. “Because I feel like it.”    
  
“No, Rose, you’re not a failure. You’re just a little bit broken inside still, and that’s okay.” Her friend smiled down at her before planting a kiss to her hair. “James knew that this was a risk, one he was terrified to take. Some people take more time to heal than others, and that’s okay too.”    
  
“James told you he was afraid to do it too?” That shocked Rose. He had gone along with it so easily, had reassured her every moment, asking, questioning, making sure he didn’t go too far. Yet, he always did that.    
  
“Gods yes. He’s always afraid he’s pushing you too far or asking too much of you. I keep telling him if you weren’t happy, you’d tell him.” Jack chuckled, and the sound made Rose’s mood lighten. James had talked to Jack about not wanting to rush her, had been worried so much about it that he actually voiced his concerns. Stars above she loved that man. “But, that does leave a dilemma.” Rose looked back up at him, sniffling the last bit of her self doubt away. “I’ll bet you your crown that he’s inside right now beating himself up with guilt that he did something wrong. Gods know I did, and James is the king, literally, of self-flagellation.”   
  
“Damn it.” Rose groaned, as she remembered everything James had called after her. He’d blamed himself from the start, despite her shouts that it wasn’t him. “I threw my ring on the floor, Jack, I was seriously considering telling him that our marriage could only be as King and Queen. I have to apologize, I have to tel him I’m sorry.” She scrambled to her feet, and Jack followed, pulling on his boots.    
  
“I’ll walk you up, but Rosie.” He grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. Rose felt tears of a new type of fear welling up, fear that James would never forgive her for almost throwing their love away. “You are not to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you have to stop blaming yourself. Don’t let him apologize either. Neither of you are at fault here, and you both know it.”    
  
“Yeah.” Rose watched as Jack picked up the lantern and held it up so she could navigate down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, and he put it out, she pulled him into a tight hug. “I love you, you know that? Thank you for chasing after me.”    
  
“My job is to protect the crown, and if that means cuddling some sense into her beautiful little head, then I’ll gladly work double shifts.” Jack’s flirt was harmless, but it felt so much like the days before the war that Rose found herself giggling like a fifteen year old. “Though I wouldn’t be opposed to snogging some sense into her, or the king for that matter, if he wasn’t liable to cut my manly parts off, and I’m gonna need those in two days.”    
  
“Needing those is exactly why you shouldn’t be flirting with a married woman, Captain Harkness. What would your bride to be say?” Rose looked up at the castle, letting Jack’s unwavering friendship and never changing crassness give her the courage she needed.    
  
“Well I happen to know my bride to be  wouldn’t mind in the least if she had to snog some sense into you, or him, or both of you at the same time.” Jack practicaslly purred in her ear with a playful tickle of her ribs, and Rose felt her face flush. Juliza found her attractive? After everything she’d seen? It wasn’t Rose’s particular taste, but it did help reinforce James’ insistence that she was perfect.    
  
“Sorry, Captain, but James an I are kinda old fashioned. We don’t like to share.” Rose looped her arm through his with a teasing smile of her own. “But we are grateful for everything you both do. Honestly, Jack, thank you for tonight.”    
  
“Anytime, Rosebud, Anytime.” Jack’s squeeze of her arm made her sigh, and Rose didn’t need to go find James and explain. She wanted to.    
  
James tossed back a mouthful of the whiskey as he finished explaining the bath and the subsequent outburst afterwards. “I just don’t understand what I need wrong. I did everything Jack told me to do. I let her start it. I made sure multiple times she was okay. I didn’t even let her know I was aroused until she was kissing me. I waited until she said she needed it, and only when she lifted up did I even try...” he groaned, rubbing his face with a hand. “She was ready. I could feel it. Hot and wet and-“   
  
Juliza’s hand slapped over his mouth as she gave a chuckle. “I get the picture, James. Believe me, I know exactly what you mean.” Her arched eyebrow and knowing smirk reminded him that she had far more experience at taking women to bed than he had. Hell, almost every grown man in the kingdom had more experience. All he had was a freaked out wife he’d only seen naked twice. “But you need to realize that it wasn’t you.” Her hand slid down, and she shifted her legs so she was    
  
“There weren’t any other men in the room.” James snorted. It’d just been him, and his stupid desires, his idiot body that had moved too fast or been too rough.    
  
“There was though.” Juliza spoke softly, but with an edge that said he was missing a crucial point. James couldn’t help but stare at her like she lost her mind. There was no way anybody else was in that room. “Harold was there, in her mind, and believe me when I say having him in your head is not exactly the most pleasant thing in the world.”    
  
“Shit.” James took another drink as he realized she was right. Even dead, his brother was still ruining everything that should be beautiful and perfect for the world. Yet, she hadn’t had that look, not really, not until James had tried to finally make love to her. “But she didn’t have any of the signs she normally does.”    
  
“It wasn’t a normal situation.” Juliza took his cup and refilled it, before topping off her own. James picked it up and swirled the liquid around, waiting to hear insight from someone who knew how Rose felt, how she thought. “Rose hates feeling weak, like she’s not in control of things. I can guarantee you that at some point before she turned around, she remembered something he said, something he did, but because she didn’t want to be weak or let him steal any more of her happiness, she fought back the only way her body could think of.” Juliza ran a hand through her hair, scrunching her nose up in thought. “What were you doing before she turned around?”    
  
“Kissing her neck, like she asked me to do.” James could remember it vividly, could taste her skin on his tongue, how at first she had sighed, had pushed her breasts up into his hands for more. Then she’d frozen, just for a few breaths, and he’d stopped, offered to quit. That’s when she had become ravenous.    
  
“Figured it was that or letting your hands wander south.” Juliza sighed as she took a sip, and James saw a flash of rage behind her face. He was a battle hardened soldier, but the lethality behind it was a bit terrifying. “Harold liked to play at seducing her, from the start. Fancied himself a predator to boot, so one of his favorite things to do was kiss her neck like a lover would, and then bite down.” She gave a shudder, and then lifted her hair up and turned her neck. James felt rage of his own flare up, as he saw a healed circle of scars at the base of her hairline. “First thing he did to me, before he tied me up and ripped my clothes. He shoved me onto the bed and bit down so hard I thought he was going to snap my neck. Then he kissed it, licked the blood off, and..” she gave another shudder. “Nevermind.”    
  
“Fuck I hate that bastard.” James growled as she lowered her hair and faced him again. He was still confused. “Why would she want me to kiss her neck, if she knows it would make her remember? I don’t understand...”   
  
“For the same reason she had to force herself to come to your bed that night, for the same reason she invited you into that bath.” Juliza sounded entirely like a woman speaking for experience, and James could see that same haunted look Rose some times wore when she was having a moment. “She knows she’ll never forget all the bad things, that they’ll be with her until she dies. Rose thinks she needs to force the bad memories away by seeking out things that he did, places he did them, and beat them down with happy ones.”    
  
“He bathed with her?” That was news to James. Rose had never mentioned it before, and he had assumed the fear came from her insecurities of her body. Was there nothing Harold hadn’t done to torment her? “Fucking bastard.”   
  
“At least three times a week, but let’s not go there.” Juliza made an annoyed noise, and James took a swallow to calm himself. “We’re talking about Rose now, not then, and I don’t need you angry.” She shook her head again, huffing like she was trying to find a way to explain something. “How many times did Rose say she needed it? More than three times?” James nodded, unsure of where she was going with this train of thought.    
  
What did Rose needing it have to do with however he screwed up? If she needed it, then it wasn’t her own actions that triggered the break down. It had to be something he did. Maybe he’d kissed her too hard, used too much tongue. Maybe he’d put too much pressure in his grip, or tried to push into her too hard, at the wrong angle. Somehow, some way, James knew he had hurt her. It was his fault.   
  
“She needed it, James. I tell you that without a doubt.” Juliza’s voice was soft, almost hesitant as she covered his hand digging into his thigh. “But she didn’t want it. Not really, not in her heart.” There was a catch in her voice, and when James looked up from his cup he saw tears glistening in those brown eyes. “She needed to do it, to get it over with, because she thought it was time. I wanted to warn her, when she came to me asking for advice.”    
  
“Advice on what?” James was still trying to process what Juliza meant by needing it but not wanting it. So he took the easy distraction while he pondered the implications.   
  
“How to make love to you without being on her back or on her stomach.” Juliza gave a wry smile, as she wiped her eyes. “I told her that being on top or in your lap would be best, because that’s what worked for me when I finally wanted to fully make love to Jack.”    
  
There it was. That need versus want again. He could see it though, Rose blushing profusely as she snuck off to ask her unmarried friend for tips on how to enjoy herself. “Any tips for me?” The snort that came from Juliza caused her whisky to spray from her nose, and the absurdity of it all had him laughing in spite of himself. “Sorry, Sorry.”    
  
“Gods above, you’re not serious?” Juliza wiped her face as her eyes blew wide. “I thought Jack was joking. You’re actually a virgin?”    
  
“Yes, and I’m proud of that!” James huffed as indignation filled his chest. Why did that always surprise everyone? He’d been ten when Rose was born, and it had been driven into his skull that she would be his wife. She was going to remain pure for her wedding bed, and he was going to do the same. In his mind, she was still as virginal as the day he proposed nine years ago.    
  
“Don’t move. Just...” Juliza set her drink down and disappeared behind a door for a moment. When she came out she was carrying a book wrapped in red leather, and fighting off a smile. “Take this. I know you royalty are given lessons on the basics and all, but this is the stuff they leave out.” She placed it on the table, shaking her head as if she was still in disbelief. “I advise you to pay particular attention to chapter three, especially the illustrations. Avoid chapter six, because she won’t like anything in there.”    
  
James leaned forward, flipping the book open, and when he saw what some of the illustrations were, he felt his ears begin to burn and his cheeks flush. That particular position had definitely not been included in his lessons, and he knew without thinking that it hadn’t been in Rose’s either. “Thanks, yeah.” He slammed the cover down and took a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat. He needed to get back on topic. “I’m confused still, by how Rose could need it but not want it?”    
  
“Gods, you and Rose are so uggggh sometimes.” Juliza rolled her eyes as she propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and then leaned her head into it. “You need to eat, right?” James nodded, not dignifying such a silly question with a verbal answer. Why couldn’t the get right to the point? “But you want a variety of food to choose from, right?” Again he nodded, still not sure what point she was beating around. “Do you need to have sex with Rose to be happy with her?”    
  
“Not at all. I’ve told her that hundreds of times. That’s why we named you and Jack our successors if we never have-“ Juliza gave him a warning look and he shut his mouth. Then he opened it again to finish his drink.    
  
“But you want it. You want to know how it feels, want to see her come undone in pleasure in your arms. You want to explore every aspect of love like a couple would.” James was starting to understand now, but the full point was still hazy. He did want all of those things, of course. He love Rose, and he wanted to take that leap with her. “Well Rose thinks she needs it, thinks that it’s the next step she has to take, that if she doesn’t then the can’t really be your wife. I know, because despite all of the amazing nights I spent with Jack before we made love, I thought I needed it to. I told myself I had to do it, that if I loved him, I needed to do it because it was time. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want it. It almost destroyed my relationship.”    
  
“I’m afraid mine may already be ruined.” James reached into his pocket and held out the ring. “She threw it at the door before she left. Juliza, she’s never taken it off. How did Jack fix it? How did he get you back?” He needed to know, so he could figure out a way to win her love and trust again. He still felt like it was his responsibility, his mistakes. Rose wouldn’t have taken this off if he hadn’t done something.    
  
“Jack didn’t do anything except what I asked him to do. He left me alone.” Juliza reached over to curl his fingers back over the ring. “But I could see it, whenever we were in the same room or passing in the hall. He blamed himself. He thought he’d done something to hurt me, just like you blame yourself. That’s the thing. He didn’t hurt me in the least. Jack is a very, very considerate lover, even more so that night. Gods the things he did before he’d even consider going that-“ James cleared his throat as her voice grew a bit husky, cutting off her little jaunt down memory lane. She blushed, looking down at her drink before sipping. “Sorry, continuing, the more time I spent without him, the more I realized where I had messed up. Jack had only made the move because I told him I needed it. I needed it because I was tired of only knowing what that monster felt like inside of me. Then, after a week, I was laying in bed wondering whether I really needed a new dress I saw in a shop or if I wanted the pearl hair net next to it. Next thing I knew, I was at Jack’s door telling him I was in love with him and asking him to let me explain my behavior.”    
  
“So what did you get, the dress or the hair net?” James understood what she meant now. Rose thought she needed to make love to him to be happy, but she didn’t want to open herself up to him fully yet.    
  
“I bought the dress, but the pearl net was wrapped under the Yule tree as gift from Jack.” Juliza smiled, and James found himself grinning back as it turned her normally pretty face into radiant beauty. It wasn’t the same as his Rose, but he could see why this woman had managed to get Jack up the aisle. From her looks, to her openness about her tastes, to the feisty but pure heart inside of her, Jack was probably done for the moment she’d been okay with his reputation. “It took two weeks, but when I wanted it, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever experienced.”    
  
James felt confident that Juliza knew what she was saying. After all, none of this would be occurring now if she hadn’t loved Rose and Gallifrey enough to trust him and Jack. He still had to be sure, one more time. “So I didn’t do anything wrong? I’m not at fault?”    
  
“Neither you nor her are, and you know it.” Juliza took his glass and set it aside. She stood up, extending a hand, and he let her pull him to his feet. “Come here, James.” She held out her arms, and James pulled her into a hug with a smile. “She’ll come back tonight, probably crying, probably trying to apologize. Don’t let her apologize, and don’t you apologize either.” James squeezed Juliza tightly, dropping a friendly kiss to her hair. He was so happy she had become Rose’s friend, and now his. “The only person who is responsible is already dead, so neither of you have anything to apologize for. You just give her that ring back and tell her you love her.”    
  
“I will.” James pulled back as Juliza grinned up at him. “Thank you, for everything. I mean it. Between you and Jack, Rose and I have needed a lot of looking after. We really do appreciate you both.”    
  
“Flattery will get you everywhere, your Grace.” Juliza teased, as she went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Now go, get yourself presentable for your wife, and don’t forget your book.” James blushed all over again as she picked it up and pressed it into his hands. “When Rose finally wants to move forward, you’ll thank me.”    
  
“I’m sure I will.” James drew a breath as she escorted him to the door. He made his way back to the room, finding it dreadfully empty, and he tucked the book on a shelf. Taking Juliza’s advice, he changed out of his haphazard clothes into his normal night pants, and started a a small fire in the sitting room to boil water for tea. Then he went back to the bedroom, picked up the round box that Rose had knocked over, carefully putting the bottles and diffuser inside and replacing it.    
  
Once that was sorted, James laid out Rose’s most comfortable nightdress on the bed, tossed the towels down on the still wet ensuite floor, and then returned to the sitting room to pick up the book on astronomy he’d been reading the night before. He had made it four paragraphs before the door eased open, and Rose slipped in looking a bit nervous and very much like she’d been crying. “Hello, love. Tea will be ready in a bit.” It took everything he had not to jump up and scoop her into his arms and apologize for everything.    
  
“I’m just going to go change.” Rose could see how much James was working to not jump right into what happened, and she loved him for it. She needed a moment to herself, to get comfortable, and when he smiled and went back to his book, she forced herself to walk calmly to their room. She didn’t shut the door though, wanting him to see she wasn’t closed off.    
  
Inside, she was surprised to see he had cleaned up Her accidental mess, had laid out her favorite nightgown, which she quickly stripped down to slide into, and then she ducked into the ensuite to wash her face and comb her hair. James hadn’t fully cleaned up the water on the floor. Rose wondered why not? She’d been gone for over an hour. It didn’t matter. She needed him to know.    
  
James looked up from pouring the hot water into the tea cups, when Rose came back in fiddling with her hair. “Do you want to sit with me for a while before bed?”    
  
“Yes, I want that very much.” The soft way she said the word told James she had gotten a conversation very similar to his own. He could kiss Jack for going after her. Rose settled down beside him, looking down at her hands. James instantly loathed how naked the left one looked.   
  
“Do you want this back?” He reached under the paper where he’d placed her ring, holding it up. “I think it must have slipped off or something.” The way her honey amber eyes softened in relief told him she had regretted throwing it the moment she had done it.    
  
“I need it back.” Rose was beginning to suspect James had had a long talk with Juliza, because he was putting some distinct inflection on that word. “And I want it back. Equal parts of both.” She held out her hand, and the gentle way he slid it onto her finger made her break. “I’m not supposed to apologize, because it’s not our faults, but I’m really sorry I shouted at you.” She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. This felt so much better, so right.   
  
“I’m not supposed to apologize either, but I’m so sorry I didn’t stop to ask if you were really wanting to go that far.” James’ throat felt tight as he cradled her in his lap. “Juliza told me how you must have been feeling, and I need you to know that I’m going to still want you if you never want that.” His jumbled explanation didn’t come out as eloquently as he had hope, and he mentally slapped himself, until Rose began to giggle. “Yeah, I just bungled that up.”   
  
“I got the jist.” Rose hummed, pulling back to look up at James’ wonderful face as he smiled down at her. “But I think I will want it, not tonight, not tomorrow night, but I will.” She expected, and somewhat dreaded, to see him ease into relief, but he didn’t. James just cupped her face in both hands with that lovesick grin that made her feel tingles all over. “I love you, husband.” She tilted her chin up, asking with her eyes for the thing she very, very much wanted in that moment.   
  
“I love you, wife.” James didn’t need Juliza to tell him what Rose was thinking just then, and he caught her lips in a kiss. It was a wonderful kiss, all sighs and giggles and chuckles as their lips pulled and parted. This was enough for him, Rose in his arms, trusting him, loving him, and he was perfectly okay with that.


	50. Chapter 50

“Are you sure it doesn’t look horrible?” Rose sighed as she fiddled with the ends of her now shoulder length hair. “I mean, I like it, but I know you like playing with my hair.” It felt so weird to not have it waving down to her elbows and drying from being washed.    
  
James reached over and brushed her hand away so he could trail his fingers through her silky strands. “I think you look gorgeous. This length really brings out your eyes and smile.” It was true, but he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the ‘accident’ was that ended up with his Rose needing her hair suddenly cut off. “What happened again?”    
  
“Ingolf chewed my braid off!” Rose pouted, fixing James with a pointed look. Ingolf and Saoirse had been gifts for her name day four months before, but the white male had taken to James with the same affection as Saoirse had with her. “Which is your fault. I told you, you can’t use ropes to teach them how to bite and hold or fetch prey. Leather! James! Leather straps!”she tried to scold him, but it was hard when he was chuckling and enjoying running his hands through her hair.    
  
“It’ll grow back, but I kind of like it like this.” James grinned as he watched her turn a lovely shade of pink. He pulled her closer on the bed, lifting his arm so she could snuggle into his side. “On a good note, you don’t have to spend an hour brushing it out every night or having the ladies style it every morning.”    
  
“Good point.” Rose rested her head against his bare shoulder, tapping the book folded on his lap. “Read to me.” This was her favorite part of the day, snuggling into James after dinner on the bed and listening to him read. Since moving in together, months and months ago, it had become a normal routine. He would read a chapter or two, to help them both unwind, and then they would snuggle under the blankets to sleep.    
  
James picked the book up, leaning down to kiss her hair, and then began reading. He never understood why Rose enjoyed listening to him read, although she had said it was because his voice was magical. That had been enough for him to not question it again, so he opened the pages to where they had left off and began reading. With his other hand, he toyed with her hair, enjoying how the shortness of it allowed his fingers to slip free across her shoulder. That was another change he was enjoying.    
  
She had discovered some of the more strappy, thinner, shorter nightgowns of Karn in a shop and purchased four, declaring his body heat mixed with the summer warmth made her sweat. These new gowns were the solution. James wasn’t complaining about that either, because it meant he got to see quite a bit of Rose every night now. They left her shoulders, arms, calves, and a tantalizing amount of her cleavage bare. Sometimes, when Rose was feeling particularly relaxed and happy, he even got to explore these areas with his lips and fingers. That wouldn’t be happening tonight, because Rose was obviously in a cuddling mood.    
  
Rose was trying hard to focus on the story he was weaving, honestly she was, but the knee knocking kiss James had planted on her when he’d gotten out of the bath still had her feeling all types of flustered. He’d taken one look at her new hair, her nervous smile, and promptly plunged his fingers into it to kiss her until her legs felt weak. She had been worried he wouldn’t like it, but she did. It made her look different, almost like a new person. Her reflection was a familiar stranger, a beautiful one, and Rose wondered why she hadn’t considered doing it before.    
  
She didn’t just look different, she felt different. It was like someone had taken the woman she had become on the inside and put her on the outside. The cherry on top of it all was that James really, really seemed to like it. He always played with her hair when they were snuggled up like this, but this was different. Rose didn’t think he was even aware of what he was doing, but he wasn’t just fiddling with a wave or looping a curl around a finger. No, James was really putting his hand into it, caressing her scalp, combing his fingers through, stroking her back and shoulder as he pulled free. It felt as wonderful as when he would give her back rubs, and Rose was loving it.    
  
James did his best not to stutter over the sentence he was reading, because Rose had just made a very pleased sounding sigh as his fingers slid back into her hair. As he paused, to turn a page, he glanced over to find her eyes were shut. They weren’t shut like she was sleepy, but more like how they got when he was rubbing her shoulders and she leaned back into him. Forcing his eyes back to the page, he moved his fingers back into her hair, reveling in the way his movements stirred the perfume from her hair soap into the air. She made that sigh again, and a peripheral glance caught her bottom lip drop just a tad. It took every ounce of control not to turn and catch it.    
  
James voice changed just a tad, dropping a bit lower, taking on an almost husky tone. Rose almost opened her eyes, but his fingers brushed down behind her ear, and it sent warm tingles across her face. She knew she probably shouldn’t sigh like she just had, but stars above it felt good. When had him playing with her hair ever made her feel like this? Rose didn’t know, but instead of soothing her into a content state, his fingers left sparks trickling down her neck as they rubbed against her scalp before combing out through her hair slowly.    
  
She did know one thing, his voice was definitely taking on that tone it did when their goodnight kiss led to his lips and tongue gliding along her chest. The thought of that made the tingles and spark burn deeper, radiating out into her fingers and legs, and as he trailed his thumb along her shoulder, Rose lost focus on the story. She heard his voice, felt it under her hand on his chest, but her attention was on the amazing way his hand was making her feel.    
  
James had no idea what he was doing, but Rose’s pulse had quickened, and her fingers were nows splayed over his heart. She still hadn’t opened her eyes, but now he saw a flush spreading down from her cheeks to her chest. Was she? No, playing with her hair never aroused her before. Not that he purposely made mental notes on what aroused her, but he had been reading that book Juliza gave him, and he may have put some of the things to use to at least make her feel good. Like kissing certain points on her body, or drawing circles there with his fingers. He wasn’t trying to seduce her, just trying to bring her physical pleasure that she could handle.    
  
Rose’s thighs shifted, and her fingers slid up his chest to stroke her neck. James had to swallow, force himself to stay in check, because she had just made the most inviting sounding moan as his thumb grazed the back of her ear. The words on the page went just a little fuzzy, and he stuttered to regain his place. “Mmm frog in your throat?” Rose practically purred the question, and James looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, but her teeth were pulling at her lower lip as he brushed her hair back to rub the back of her neck.    
  
“Yeah.” James cleared his throat, but Rose felt his heart skip against her arm. Her fingers trailed along the pulse point of his throat, and she found it was racing. He started reading again, but his voice was a lot deeper now, definitely a bit gravely, and Rose opened her eyes. His ears were tinged pink, and he kept glancing down at her before moving his attention back to the book.    
  
His fingers moving against her had lit an ember low in her belly, and it was growing. Rose wanted to kiss him, wanted his fingers all over her just like in her hair. She had no idea what he was reading anymore, so she had no qualms with lowering her hand to the book, taking it from his limp hand, and tossing it away. His dazzling eyes met hers, as his brow furrowed in confusion, but Rose didn’t explain. She threw her leg over his lap, flicked her eyes between his, and lowered her lips to his.    
  
James was absolutely confused, as his book went soaring across the room, but he didn’t care as Rose was suddenly kissing him. Not only that, she was straddling him, raking her nails of one hand through his hair as her other hand braced against his chest. Kissing was allowed, kissing along exposed skin while snuggled together was okay, but never in a position like this. Her teeth grazed his lower lip, and James groaned.    
  
Rose caught James’ groan on her tongue, and she released his lip with a giggle. Opening her eyes, she smiled down at him. “I love you.” The grin on his face was half pleased and half yearning. Before he could answer, she dove in again. She felt good, better than good, like her whole body was hyper aware of the slightest touch. His lips tugged at her lower one, and his hand drifted down her back as the other curled along her hip. The urge to lower herself fully onto him flowed naturally through her, and she danced her fingers up to curve along his ear.    
  
Her kiss, her touch, and the feeling of him moving against his lap broke James’ control. He felt himself surge in response, and was about to break from her lips to apologize when Rose rocked her hips slightly and moaned. James couldn’t help but groan at the friction. He slid his hand down her thigh, hesitantly, before curling his fingers where the short gown had exposed her skin. To his delight, Rose made a pleased sound and broke the kiss to trail her tongue along his ear. “I want you.” The husky tone in her voice spurred him on, and he pushed the gown up to grip her bare hip.    
  
“You sure?” James’ question was breathless, and it made Rose smile. This was perfect, his fingers on her skin ignited more of that consuming flame. She didn’t feel confused or dazed. She felt alive. In answer, Rose rocked against his hard length again, moaning at the waves of pleasure it sent coursing up her spine. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her lips forward to trail along his jaw. She giggled as her gown was pushed up until their bare stomachs touched.    
  
“Take it off!” Rose’s eyes sparkled as she brought her hands back down to grab the material from him and tug it upwards. He helped, eager to see her naked skin again. Rose was a vision in her bare glory, and with a nod from her, he tossed the gown aside and took her right breast in hand. “Yes!” The breathless cry had him sitting up straighter, and it was instinct that drove his lips back to hers as she rocked against him, their tongues meeting for a brief dance.    
  
Rose felt glorious as James’ hands caressed and rolled across her skin. She wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted him in the past. Her whole body was craving his touch, eager to feel the way his thumb rolled her breast and his another hand kneaded the supple flesh of her rear. Rocking down against him was a whole other level of pleasure, and it intensified the fire in her core, sending it smoldering down her thighs, and she felt herself growing damp. “More.” She gasped, lifting up and back.    
  
James obeyed willingly, heeding Rose’s request by catching her left breast in his lips. He’d done this before, through her clothes, but never before had it made her moan like that or curl a hand around his head to hold him there. He smiled as he twirled his tongue, eager to hear her make that noise again, and when she did, he pressed up into her reflexively. She didn’t tense up, quite the opposite. Rose rocked against him again, groaning his name.    
  
Rose was in bliss, as James’ ministrations with his tongue and the hand stroking up her back sent her soaring higher. She didn’t understand how she could feel so desperate but so relaxed at once. She just knew she wanted more, wanted it all. She dragged her hands down his chest, trying to shift back when her fingers reached his pants, so she could get them off. “Wait...” James gasped sigh turned into a chuckle, and Rose whined as he released her breast. “I want to try something first. Something I learned from a book... something I think you’ll really enjoy.”    
  
“What?!” Rose was eager. She knew James had been tutored just like she had, but right now all she could think of was feeling him slipping through her folds. She blinked in confusion as James held her hips steady, but fell back onto the pillows. She groaned as he scooted up until his head almost touched the headboard, because the movement had caused the bulge in his trousers to push up into her folds in the most delicious way.    
  
“Come here.” James hoped he was going to do this right. He had memorized the passage, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he had practiced twice on a peach just as the instructions had advised. When Rose leaned down to kiss him, he chuckled and pushed her back up. “No, love, come up here and straddle my face.”    
  
The look of confusion on her face was adorable, but when he bucked up to spur her into movement, she did as he asked. “Grip the headboard to steady yourself.” The sight above him was so tempting James felt himself twitch. Rose’s wet curls were just above his mouth, and from this angle he could see up her toned stomach to the underside of her supple breasts. Eager to hear what new sounds he could coax from her, James grabbed her hips and pulled her slowly down to his lips. The scent of her was intoxicating, and desperate to see if she tasted just as delicious, James snaked his tongue out for a slow lick.    
  
“Holy stars!” Rose was glad she was gripping the headboard, because the sensation that shot through her was so wonderful she almost fell forward. James’ tongue moved against her again, from her entrance to the hooded bud at the apex, and what coursed through her was pleasure she hadn’t imagined possible. Then, to make her feel even better, James moaned like he’d just bitten into a delicious meal and began to work in earnest.    
  
Her tutors had told her that this would feel good, and Juliza had told her that this would feel amazing. Rose groaned as she realized they had grossly under described was she was feeling. James gave a suck and a flick of his tongue that had drove her to roll her hips down for more. She couldn’t get enough, even as he chuckled and repeated the suck and flick. She gripped the headboard tighter, closing her eyes, tossing her head back as a cry of ecstasy she couldn’t contain shot past her panting lips.    
  
James hadn’t read anything about the woman grinding down or rocking, but he didn’t care. It was obvious in the way Rose was trembling, in the shouts and gasps coming out of her, in the sweet nectar dripping down his lips and chin that she was enjoying this. In fact, her movements gave him better access, and he took advantage of it to lick and suck and swirl his tongue. He was more than enjoying himself, and he felt himself growing harder than he’d experienced.    
  
Rose was delicious, and he was greedy for her. From the first taste he was addicted, thirsty for the wetness he was coaxing from her. Desperate to taste more, James held her lightly in place and curled his tongue to her entrance, twirling it to collect the sweetness pooling there, and the moan that came from Rose’s mouth was accompanied by her pressing down. Needing to give her what she wanted, James lifted his chin and slid his tongue just inside of her, moaning as his thirst was quenched by more of her sweet arousal.    
  
It was pleasure that made Rose jerk at the slight sensation of being filled, and she felt her legs begin to shake as his tongue circled inside of her, once, twice, and on the third she hand to slam a hand against the wall above her head to steady herself. “Gods, that’s.-“ her praise for his talent was broken by a whimper as his tongue vanished, but before she could mourn it’s absence his lips had wrapped around her for another mind blowing suck and press of his tongue. “Yes! That!”    
  
Rose couldn’t describe the feeling filling her thighs and core. She didn’t want to, just wanted to feel it as it began to tighten. She couldn’t help but roll her hips, rock, and press down into his mouth. Her body was chasing the sensation, desperate to feel where it was taking her. She could barely breathe, couldn’t think of anything but the pleasure, her love for James, and the tension that was shoving her higher and higher. James gave a throaty groan as his tongue pressed, and suddenly Rose was flying.    
  
It felt like an explosion deep inside of her that sent stars behind her eyelids. Her heart pounded in her chest, making her ears roar and ring, and she cried desperately out into the room as her head spun. Every fibre of her feeling felt like it was burning in the most amazing way, and as her knees slid on the pillow, she found herself being lifted back and down until her legs were around James’ waist and his lips were desperate on hers. Rose didn’t care that the sweet, sticky wetness on his lips and chin was from hers, all she cared about was that James was kissing her.    
  
Rose’s climax was a thing of beauty, and though James wanted to drink it all he needed to see her face. The heavy lidded, flushed, panting woman in his arms was too much to deny, and he had to kiss her. He was aching for his own release, but wouldn’t, couldn’t until she made the move. “Make love.” Rose gasped against his lips. “To me, James.” Her fingers fumbled as she tried to lift up, and he had to chuckle at the pleading in her eyes. It was so perfect, so wondrous that he couldn’t focus on wriggling out of his pants or kissing her.    
  
Apparently Rose thought the pants were more important because she had pushed him back onto his elbows and was rolling them down. “Lift up, love.” James didn’t care how desperate he sounded, because Rose obeyed and he was able to kick his legs free. When she looked down at his own arousal, he braced himself for the possibility of the moment ending, but she smiled his smile and curled one delicate hand around it. “Rose!” The sensation was so mind blowing that was the only word he could muster.    
  
James was perfect, and Rose loved how this scene looked. He wasn’t obscenely large or thick, but definitely above average from what she had learned about. Feeling him in her hand, stroking her fingers up to catch the glistening liquid leaking from the tip had her feeling powerful, adored, and wanted. The way his jaw dropped, his eyes burned in pleasure, and the gasps that escaped his lips made her move. “Lean against the headboard and pillows.” Eager was too slow a word to describe how James moved, and Rose giggled as she straddled him again.    
  
She could feel her own arousal, the heated slickness pooling into her curls, as she rocked down against him. It coated his skin, letting the hardness slide easily through her folds, hitting that spot that made her shiver and gasp, until she positioned him at her entrance. “I love you.” She whispered, and slowly, gently, she lowered herself down.    
  
The feeling was astounding, and while there was a slight twinge of being stretched as she sank lower, it was gone before she could register it fully. There was only one word to describe how James felt inside of Rose, how he filled her, made her whole body feel like she was in utter bliss. The word was perfection, and no fear or whispers ruined the sensation. This was love. This was the first time, and Rose pulled his hands to her hips as she began to move.    
  
James lost the ability to coherently think. He was completely enamored with the woman cupping his face, sighing in pleasure, and gazing into his eyes with delight and love. The sensation of Rose’s hot, wet, fluttering velvet around him was nearly overwhelming. Each rock, each bounce, each roll of her hips was indescribable, and he let her know by groaning her name, sliding one hand up to cup her breast as they bounced. It was better than he had imagined, and he tugged her down to taste her lips.    
  
The change in angle made him groan, as her already tight body clenched around him more. Hazily, as Rose’s tongue curled against the roof of his mouth, James remembered a flicker of an image from the book. He groaned as she pressed all the way down and rolled her hips, but managed to bend his knees up to give him leverage. The ability to rock up and meet her downward thrusts took the ecstasy of the moment to another level. Judging by the sudden way Rose slapped her hand past his ear to the headboard, she greatly approved of what he was doing.    
  
James bucking up to meet her drove Rose wild. She braced herself against the wood,  gasping into his open mouth as she moved her other hand down his arm to pull his hand back to her breast. She loved how he touched them, how he squeezed just right, flicked his thumb over the dusky peaks. He met her downward motion with a particularly deep upward thrust, and it made her clench her thighs in delight. “I want.. I..” What did she want? How could she ask? She wanted to explode again.    
  
James released Rose’s breast to give her what she was asking for. He wanted her to feel it too, needed it with an intensity he couldn’t describe. Catching her wetness as she lifted up, he dampened his fingers and slipped them through her curls as she came back down. “This, love?” He groaned, and circled the perfect bundle of nerves with a press.    
  
“Yes!” Rose dug her fingers into James’ shoulder, as his touch sent a jolt up her spine. She had to kiss him again, had to show him how much she loved this, loved him. His lips met hers halfway, and Rose found herself melting into him as he curled his other hand around her back and held her in place. Rose couldn’t get enough of his skin, and whimpered into him as her movements faltered from the sensations coursing through her. James took over, to her pleasure, rocking up into her, his fingers driving her towards the edge again.    
  
James was close, so close it was hard to hold back. Rose was too, and he could feel it in the way she had lost her rhythm, was blindly sliding her fingers over his chest and arms. He had no qualms with taking over, giving her everything she wanted, drowning in the way she was gasping his name, her love for him, calling him perfect and a god. He thrust up again, his fingers pressing, and Rose was tossing her head back, crying his name, digging her nails into his biceps, as she clenched around him, more of her sweet arousal coating him.    
  
James felt the tightening spring low in his stomach and thighs, and knowing his love was riding high in her own release, he chased after it. He pulled her down to his chest, burying his face in his hair, as he picked up his pace. Rose was trembling in his arms, and knowing it was from nothing but sheer pleasure spurred him on. He was nearly there, the coil ready to snap, and Rose’ half parted lips pressed into his skin with a gasp. That did it.    
  
James gasped Rose’s name into her hair as he pulled her down firmly onto him. He felt his heart stutter, his mind cloud as his pulse roared through his ears, and he stilled inside of her as stars exploded behind his eyes. He’d never felt his completion so fully, so deep inside of his soul, as his release filled her. His blindly kissed her hair, trying to regain control of his own trembling body as his legs extended to relax into the sheets. “I love you, so much.” He managed to whisper, stroking Rose’s trembling back, as she kissed the same spot on his chest over and over.    
  
As the roaring in his ears subsided, and he felt himself softening until he slid from her, James froze as he realized Rose was still shaking, still trembling, and the wetness on his chest wasn’t just from his lips. The gasp that broke across his skin was broken. His heart stopped as panic flooded him. Rose was crying. “Rose, oh love, no. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He tried to sit up, but Rose lifted her head with a smile.    
  
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just really really happy.” Rose didn’t mean to sob, but the absolute peace and love and joy inside of her was too much to keep in. She’d done it. She’d made love to James, and it hadn’t been scary or ruined or sent her into a panic. It was perfect. “Because I love you, and I never thought we could have this, and now we do, and James.” Rose had to stop to gasp in a breath at the smile that broke across his face. “It was wonderful. All of it was perfect.”    
  
“Yes it was.” Rose didn’t think she’d ever seen James look at her with such affection and devotion before. His eyes were glistening with tears now too. “Come here, precious girl.” She loved it when he called her that, and she moved up to nuzzle her face into his neck. “You were fantastic, so beautiful, and I’m so happy I can’t even figure out how to explain it.”    
  
“Some things can’t be described.” Rose’s sigh as her arms curled around his neck was the most beautiful thing James had ever heard, and he kissed her hair as he cradled her. It took a bit for them both to stop sniffling and exchanging content little kisses, but when Rose shifted her legs and hissed. “Um... could you maybe call for some fresh bath water?” He had to chuckle and pull her face away to see the blush he knew would be tinting her cheeks. “Cause I don’t think I can walk down the stairs right now.”    
  
“Of course.” James was beyond gentle as he shifted her to the sheets, and Rose bit her lip as he rolled off the bed to stand. She’d never noticed just how nice him bum was until he was bending over to pick up his discarded pants. “Are you staring at me?” He laughed, looking back. Rose bit her lip and nodded, too in awe of his gorgeousness to speak. “Well sorry to disrupt your view but...” he pulled his pants up with a wink. “You can stare at it later.”    
  
Rose definitely did. She stared at it as he shut the ensuite door an hour later, before half sprinting to join her in the warm water. She’d gotten a pretty good view of the front the next morning as he lifted her onto the dresser before he’d dropped to his knees and pulled her legs over his shoulders.    
  
She wasn’t selfish though, and made sure James got a view of his own when she’d been kneeling in bed a a month later wearing nothing but his formal uniform coat and his crown. That was the first night she’d laid back and beckoned him down to her, and Rose found that while being on her back was scary at first, James was just as passionate and considerate a lover as when she was on top.    
  
It was just after their third anniversary when Rose met James’ eyes across the pillows, smiling sleepily at him while Ingolf and Saoirse curled up with their trio of month old pups on the floor by fire. “James.” He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer under the blankets. “Would you be okay with me not drinking my tea anymore?” The hesitation in her drowsy voice was so lovely as his groggy, satisfied mind processed the meaning.    
  
“More than okay.” James’ heart swelled with hope and more love than he’d known he was capable of feeling. There was also pride, so much pride for his Rose, because she had finally healed enough, finally felt like her world was bright and full. He could see it in her eyes, and he wrapped her up to catch her lips in a kiss.    
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the epilogue!


	51. Chapter 51

~seventeen years later~

 

Rose pulled her cloak around her as she dismounted at the stables. James slid down next to her, and the frost on his short beard only made the peppering of gray more pronounced. “Daddy!” A blur of a red coat and raven black hair launched itself at James, making her laugh as Sarah Jane Idris Saxon was hoisted into his arms. The eight year old hugged him tightly, as Dione, her ever present shewolf, skidded to a stop in the snow. She didn’t feel slighted in the least by not receiving so warm a welcome, because she knew how strong a bond between a father and daughter could be.   
  
“Hello Princess.” James melted inside just as he did every time his daughter hugged him. It might have something to do with the fact that, apart from the hair and sky blue eyes, she was the spitting image of her mother at ten. “What’s with the excitement? We just went to restock the safe house.” Janey’s face split into that tongue touched grin.   
  
“Come on! Hurry!” Rose shrugged at James as Janey took their hands and dragged them towards the snow covered gardens. As they approached the spring, she could smell a small fire and hear giggling. “Shhhh!” She hissed, before pointing around one of the snow covered hedges. “Look!” Rose didn’t get a chance to process what she was seeing before James barked out. Then she was giggling behind her hand.   
  
“Rassilon Antony Orion Saxon, what in the blazes is this?” James watched as his fifteen year old son jerked away from where he had been leaning against the massive oak tree on a picnic blanket next to a fire feeding bits of fruit to Jack and Juliza’s fourteen year old daughter. The brunette girl lifted her head from Rassilon’s lap, blushing profusely as she tossed the fur pelt that had been draped over her aside.   
  
He wasn’t angry, just startled by what was going on. The teens had always bickered like cats and dogs, but now they were snuggling? Then he saw something else beside the fire that made him blink. Brandt, Rassilon’s golden male wolf, was snuggled up with Svetlana, the black she wolf that they had given Persephone for her birthday two years ago. He jerked his eyes back to the teens, who were stammering over each other for an answer. Rassilon was ruffling his shoulder length blonde hair, as his cheeks flushed up to his golden eyes. “Dad, we were just-“ Janey burst into giggles behind them, and James heard her scurrying away with Dione.   
  
“James, stop it!” Rose put a hand on her husbands arm, as she saw the way Persephone was gazing up at her handsome son with flushed cheeks and an awestruck smile. “It’s just a picnic in the gardens.” That was the look of young love, and Rose shook her head. Her husband’s mouth dropped open as he looked down at her, obviously shocked that she wasn’t upset. “Besides, I think they’re old enough to know.”   
  
“Know what?” Rassilon’s gruff accent, so like his father’s sounded cautious, but Rose didn’t miss the way his fingers clasped with Persephone’s. Jack and Juliza were going to be so pleased when they came back from town.   
  
“That you two have been promised to each other since Persephone was born.” Rose had to laugh at the way the girl gasped and spun to look up at her son. She knew that look in her blue eyes, had seen it on herself the morning after she came to court, had seen it on Juliza the day of her wedding.   
  
“Which means any further picnics must be chaperoned!” James huffed as he walked over to kick snow onto the fire. His firm voice didn’t last, as he saw the way Rassilon turned to touch Persephone’s face. He remembered that look of joy in those amber eyes, knew all of the wonderful thoughts that were tumbling through his son’s mind. It was exactly how he had looked the first time Rose came to court. “Don’t worry, Aunt Martha won’t mind.”   
  
“Uh uh.” Rassilon mumbled.   
  
“Sounds brilliant.” Persephone murmured.   
  
Rose looped her arm around James’ waist as they followed the two love sick teens up to the castle. His lips pressed into her hair, and she squealed like she was fifteen and not nearly forty as her own love scooped her into his arms. “Don’t drop me James Jonathan!”   
  
“Never!” James laughed, smiling down at his wife. It was three days before Yule. His son was in love. His daughter was racing towards him with Lord Grant’s ten year old son at her side and five wolves on her tail, and his wife was kissing his cheek. It had been eight years, seven months, and six days since she’d had a nightmare, and the battle field hadn’t haunted him in just as long. The world was perfect, and monsters of all kinds were buried deep in the past.   
  


~Fin~


End file.
